


Arizona

by jypzrose



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 67,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jypzrose/pseuds/jypzrose
Summary: Druscilla followed Angel into hell. Buffy did leave, but never went back to Sunnydale, due to an unforeseen circumstance of that day. Now known as Anne, she lives in a small town, outside of Tombstone, Arizona working as a stripper. Spike finds her. What secrets does she have to tell, and can they get beyond the pain of the past to start a future together? NC-17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Special thanks- to my beta suzy, you are the best, and kumi, for without her, you would not be able to read this. Love you gals.  
> Summary: Druscilla followed Angel into hell. Buffy did leave, but never went back to Sunnydale, due to an unforeseen circumstance of that day. Now known as Anne, she lives in a small town, outside of Tombstone, Arizona working as a stripper. Spike finds her. What secrets does she have to tell, and can they get beyond the pain of the past to start a future together?.
> 
> Spoilers: Through the end of Season 2
> 
> Rating: NC-17
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned any of it, Buffy and Spike would be together, minus chip AND soul. All characters belong to Joss, except Mark, he is a creation of my own mind, and I intend to keep him! So there.
> 
> Distribution: Here and at Libidinous Desires, anywhere else, email me first

**Prologue**

"Mom."

"Buffy!" Joyce cried. Her mother's voice held its usual amount of relief and fear. Relief that she had called, fear that this could be the last time.

"Mom." The word was said with a hint of warning.

"I'm sorry. Anne. How are you?" Joyce asked quickly. Anne couldn't help but smile.

"I'm fine. Really good, actually. How's the Hellmouth?" She asked with a nervous laugh. She vaguely wondered if their monthly phone calls would ever get better. Somehow, she doubted it.

"And Matt?" The hint of longing rang across the miles, making it seem as if her mother was right there in front of her.

"He's good. Did you get the package I sent?"

"Oh, yes. He's so beautiful. I wish I could see him." Joyce told her. Anne closed her eyes against the wave of guilt that crashed over her.

"I. . .I know mom."

"Baby, why can't you come home?" Tears flowed down Joyce's face, the ache in her heart nearly unbearable.

"You've seen the pictures mom. You know why." Anne wiped her own tears away, and twisted the metal chord of the payphone through her fingers.

"Honey, you know it doesn't matter to me. . ."

"I know it doesn't matter to YOU. Or Giles. That's not what I'm worried about." Anne interrupted, feeling the hold on her temper strain just a little tighter. "Maybe when he's older. Not now." She listened as her mother sighed, the older woman's disappointment thick.

"Whatever you feel is best, honey." she conceded, finally.

"Yeah." What was best, she echoed in her head. For not the first time, she found herself wondering just what that was. "Look, mom. I gotta go. Give Giles my love."

"Of course. Do you want me to say anything to Willow, or Xander?"

"Tell Will I said Hi."

"Anne, you're going to have to forgive him someday."

"Who says?" came the reply, her voice cold. She heard Joyce sigh again, but her mother let it drop.

"Alright. I love you."

"I love you, too." She whispered, quickly hanging up the phone. Resting her forehead against the receiver, she took a moment to collect herself before leaving the booth and getting into her car. With a squeal of rubber, she pulled into the light afternoon traffic, and headed towards home.

~*~*~

"Uhn." Xander grunted as he hit the side of the crypt. He watched as the leather clad blond stalked over to him.

"You know, whelp. This would be a lot easier if you would just tell me where the bint is." Spike snarled, yellow eyes flashing.

"It would also go easier if you would just listen when we tell you that WE DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE IS! We've been telling you that for the last four years." Willow huffed from her spot by a tombstone. Spike glowered over at her, wondering briefly when exactly he had stopped scaring them.

"Do you think," Xander started, pushing himself to his feet. "That since this seems to be an annual thing, that maybe we could. . .I dunno, schedule it or something? It's very inconvenient to have to carry bandages around ALL the time." He finished, glaring at the vampire and wiping blood from his lip. "And, anyway. You were the last one to see her before she left. How the hell do we know that you didn't kill her?"

"Oh, and this is just some big ruse to cover my tracks?" Spike asked sarcastically, then pulled out a cigarette. He knew things were bad when beating on the loud mouth wasn't fun anymore. "I've killed two Slayers, boy. Why would I lie about the third. And WHY would I keep coming back to this pit of Hell?"

"Nostalgia?" Willow offered, crossing her arms over her chest. Spike leveled a look at her that had sent many a mortal skittering away screaming. The witch merely arched a brow. With a sigh, he shifted back into his human face, then took a drag from his cigarette.

"You're trying to tell me, that in the past five years, she hasn't come back? ONCE?" He growled.

"No, she hasn't." The look on the boy's face was so full of guilt and remorse, Spike knew that there was something more behind this than the Slayer fleeing the place that had caused her grief.

"Fine." He spat, flicking his cigarette away. He wasn't going to get anywhere here. Turning away, he stalked into the night, his duster flowing behind him. "Goodbye, kiddies." He called over his shoulder as he disappeared.

"Why didn't we stake him?" Xander asked, rolling his arms to assess the damage. Spike must've been slipping in his old age, since he only felt a slight twinge in his shoulder.

"Because Joyce told us not to." Willow reminded him, falling into step with him when he turned to start home. Xander snorted, wondering once more about the mental stability of the older Summers. "Do you think we did the right thing? Not telling him to go see Joyce, I mean. She did want to see him." Uncertainty clouded her green eyes, as she scanned the darkened grave yard, looking for him. She didn't like to be deceitful, and now she was wondering if Xander had been wrong to talk her out of telling Spike.

Xander's gaze was hard and cold when it met hers, causing her to shiver.

"Trust me, Will. Nothing good can come from a conversation with Spike." With that, he turned away, leaving Willow to scramble to catch up.

 

**Chapter One**

_One Month Later_

"Hi, Anne."

"Hey, Sue. How's the natives?" Anne asked, pulling the scrunchy out of her long, brown hair.

"Restless." Replied the blonde, with a smirk. Anne giggled in response, kicking out of her sneakers.

"Any good tippers?" She rolled her violet eyes, and straightened the white nurse's cap in her hair. Satisfied, she pulled out her lipstick, then with practiced strokes, expertly refreshed the color on her full lips. "That good, huh? Great. Don't they know my kid needs new shoes?" Anne huffed, dropping her sweat pants to the floor, then followed them quickly with her t-shirt. Feeling no embarrassment at standing in a room full of people in just a thong, she reached over and grabbed the lotion off the make up table.

"Don't worry, darlin'. I'm sure your sweet, little ass will pull in enough to buy out Payless. Well, how do I look?" Sue did a tight spin, then struck a pose, awaiting Anne's judgment. The brunette paused in the ritual of slathering her skin with lotion to appraise. Sue's lush body was draped in a short, tight, low cut nurse's uniform, a stethoscope tucked seductively into her surgically enhanced cleavage. White stockings encased the length of her long legs, the tops attached to the garters that peeked out from under the skirt. Her height was enhanced by the four inch platform pumps that adorned her feet. The white of the outfit glowed against her coffee colored skin. The blond wig hung in ringlets around her shoulders.

"Edible." Anne told her. Sue's creamy laugh drifted through the dressing room, drawing glances from the other girls.

"And don't you know it. One bite of Nurse Sugar, and you are guaranteed to get cavities." With a snap and a wink, Sue turned and left. Anne watched the black woman walk out of the room, a smile on her face. With a shake of her head, and a laugh, she returned to her nightly, pre-work ritual.

~*~*~

"Gentleman, please welcome, Silver." Cringing inwardly at her stage name, Anne burst through the shimmering curtain. The lights played over her golden limbs as she turned herself over to the music, her burgundy thong and bra set complementing her skin perfectly. The interior of the bar was smoky with the slight over smell of beer and watered down liquor. Multi-colored lights danced from the spotlights above her, and from the lighted stage. The area around her was filled with men varying in size, color and age, most just getting off work. The dance surface was in the shape of a T, with poles at each of the points. A long bar lined the wall across from her, and several round tables filled the space in between. Off to the left of her were the halls that led to the lap dance room, called the Dream Room, and the restrooms. Also off that hall was the room that Anne had never seen the inside of, and planned never to. That was the Paradise Room, where some of the other girls conducted a different sort of business. It wasn't actually a room, more like a series of cubicles that allowed the dancers and their clients a bit of privacy the Dream Room didn't allow.

Anne dropped to her knees and slowly rolled her hips to the music, holding her top to her breasts in a teasing manner. The one thing that she liked about stripping, besides the money, was that as long as the clothes came off, most men didn't care if you were a prima ballerina or as stiff as a stick. It was all about look, attitude, and how much they liked your tits.

She was about halfway through her first set when she felt it. That familiar, distinct tingly feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ignoring it, she grabbed the bar, gyrating her hips against it, and twisting her fingers over her nipples, a wide smile on her face. Bills littered the floor at her feet, as well as a few scraps of paper with the inevitable phone numbers.

As the final notes of her song faded, Anne leaned down to pick up her money, hazel eyes scanning the darkness around her. She didn't look for trouble, but if trouble found her, she took care of it. Most vampires that frequented the bar didn't come here to feed. But, every once and awhile, the odd one would come looking for the former Slayer, and would meet a quick demise for their trouble.

With another smile, and quick shake of her breasts at the audience, Anne disappeared into the back.

Twenty minutes later, she reentered the bar, pulling at the hem of her midnight, blue tube dress. Anne worked her way through the tables to the bar, smiling at the people she knew. This was the part of her job that she hated. Lap dances. But, they brought in good money, and as long as they kept their hands on the arms of the chair, she would deal with them. She would deal with anything to make sure her kid was taken care of.

Sliding up next to a young business looking type, she put on her best smile and started to flirt shamelessly. The tingling hadn't eased, but as long as he didn't bother her, the clientele, or the other girls, she wouldn't dust him. Moving with the yuppie toward the Dream Room, she hazarded one more glance around the room. As they disappeared into the dark hall, her observer stepped out of his place in the shadows. The strobe lights from the stage glinted brightly off his white hair, the orange glow of his cigarette casting an eery glow across his chiseled features. He stared after them a minute, considering going after them and ripping the bastard's head off for even thinking about touching her. Deciding he didn't care for that train of thought, he dropped the cigarette to the floor and crushed it under his boot. He then turned and left the club, the shock at seeing her, stripping no less, still tripping through him. He'd have to go to his hotel room and think, decide what to do. He'd been looking for her for four years, and he had certainly not expected to find her here, in this dive, taking her clothes off for money. A mental image of her straddling that wanker, her hips gyrating seductively against him flashed into his head. The anger the picture induced surprised him, and he had to force himself to keep walking towards his car. He'd take a day or two to think, then he would come back and find out what exactly was going on.

It had been four and a half years since he had gotten her message at Willie's to meet her in L.A. He'd had no idea why he had gone back to Sunny Hell, not wanting to admit that it had been his want to see her that had fueled it. But, halfway to Los Angeles, he had finally come to terms with it, knowing that once he found her, his unlife would change forever. Again. He hadn't found her there, however, and he realized just how old her message must have been. Who knew where she was now, where she had hidden herself. He had started to look for her then, always migrating back to Sunnydale in hopes that she had come back.

He had left there, just a month before, and started his search all over again. He had stopped at a demon bar in Tuscon, planning on drinking himself into a coma before going back to his hotel. He had just hit the halfway mark on his first bottle of Jack, when he overheard a group of vampires talking about a club, where vampires were allowed to go, as long as they didn't snack on the patrons. It never would have caught his attention if the one talking hadn't mentioned that a girl with the strength of a Slayer worked there. Interrupting them, he demanded to know just where this place was, then, drink forgotten, hopped into his car. His mind couldn't wrap around the possibility that it was her. He'd driven straight there, paid the cover and walked in. Then stopped dead as he took in the Goddess on the stage.

It was her, alright. In all her golden glory. Everything was just as he remembered, save the color and the length of her hair. He knew she had felt him, too. Her eyes had scanned the bar in the seconds after he had walked in, even though her movements never faltered. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, and her face held none of the grief and strain that had been there when they had parted ways. She actually seemed. . .happy.

Sliding into his car, he started the powerful engine and pulled out of the parking lot. He cursed inwardly as memories and grief he had thought long buried assailed him. He tried to remember the time when his every thought in regards to her had been about her death. That time seemed so long ago, so far removed from the vampire he was now. He had to think, then he would come back. They had a lot of catching up to do.

~*~*~

Anne stifled a yawn as she twisted the key in the lock, pushing the door open when it clicked. Pain shot up her legs, causing her to groan. To think, she used to slay vampires in heels with no problems, but dancing for hours in them caused her muscles to seize up. Shaking her head at the irony, she glanced down at the dark head against the blue fabric of her couch. She dropped her purse and gym bag on the floor, then closed the door before leaning down to blow on the sleeping figure's ear. He hadn't moved since she walked in, and the couch was situated right next to the door. Swallowing a chuckle when one long fingered hand came up to swat at his ear, she blew again, this time adding a well sculpted nail into the mix. He came awake with a jerk, his hand slapping soundly against the side of his head.

"Dammit!" he muttered, dark brown eyes glaring at the giggling woman behind him.

"Hi, Mark. Sleep well?" She asked, flopping down next to him on the overstuffed cushions and propping her feet up on the oak coffee table.

"I was, until something rude and annoying woke me up." he growled, running a hand through his long, black tresses.

"Aw, poor baby." she crooned, punching him lightly in the arm. It still amazed him that one of her 'light' punches could cause pain to sing up his limb. He often joked that she should be the bouncer, and he the dancer. "Was he good?"

"As gold." he told her, reaching for his cigarettes. She had given up long ago, trying to make him quit. He had told her that if he was going to die, he was going to die happy, with a cigarette between his lips, a guitar strapped to his body, and a beer in his hand. His job as a bouncer at the club paid the bills, but music held his heart. Blowing a plume of smoke into the air, he turned to look at her.

"How was the meat factory?" One, slender brown eyebrow shot up, but she let the comment pass.

"It was alright. All the big tippers decided to stay home and actually spend time with their wives, apparently. But, I made three hundred bucks. So, not a bad night." She watched the sleek line of his jaw tense, and sighed. *Here it comes* she thought.

"Lap dances?"

"They bring in the most money. And at least I'm not joining some of the rest of the girls in their side business." This had long been a bone of contention between them, since she had traded her apron for a g-string. He didn't like the thought of her rubbing herself against the overly hormonal male populace.

"It's close enough." Mark snapped, flicking his ash into the ashtray.

"Are you calling me a whore, Mark?" she asked, hazel eyes glittering dangerously. She studied his face as he began backpedaling, indignant that she would think such a thing. Mark Lynch was a six foot four, solid mass of lean muscle. His long, straight black hair hung just past his shoulder blades, the color so dark it sometimes shone blue in the light. Dark brown eyes sat under thick black brows, and were fringed with lashes so long it should have been a sin for them to be on a man. High cheek bones and his coloring denoted his Native American heritage, as did the line of his nose. His mouth, which was often set in a wide, rakish grin, sported full lips that had made many a woman swoon. A close trimmed, mustache and goatee completed his rock God look. His usual attire consisted of a pair of well-worn cowboy boots, tight, faded blue jeans, and a variety of different t-shirts, and a leather jacket. Anne had heard one of the other dancers refer to him as walking sex, and she hadn't been able to disagree.

He had been her friend since the day she had stumbled into the Glamour Factory, very pregnant, underage, and in desperate need of a job. He had helped her convince the owner, a forty something bald man by the name of Ralph, to let her work in the kitchen until she turned eighteen. Ralph then let her waitress until the baby was born, dropping subtle hints about the money she could make dancing. Her slayer strength had come in handy, and she been the darling of the customers. None of the men seemed to care that she was pregnant, but they all treated her with respect, and some nights she would find herself going home with more money than the dancers. Of course, that had changed once she had actually given birth. Men.

Even with all the help that Mark had offered her, and mostly because she knew he liked her, she kept him at arm's length. Scared, grief-stricken and alone with a baby on the way, she had almost succumbed to the vampire that had attacked her after work one night. Her surprise was evident when she found herself staring at Mark through the cloud of dust, a pool cue turned stake in his hand.

That night, she had told him everything, not knowing until she was finished how much she had needed a friend. He had held her through her tale of sending her vampire lover to Hell, and how she came to be pregnant. When she was done, he had asked her quietly, if the father knew. She answered, just as quietly, no. But it wasn't that she didn't want him to know, she just hadn't seen him again. That had caused her an even greater sadness that she didn't have the strength, or the will, to analyze.

"You working tomorrow?" she asked, pulling herself out of her memories. He crushed out his Marlboro light and shook his head.

"Yep. You?" She nodded with a grimace. Thing about being the Slayer, it gives you absolutely no job skills to fall back on. Running his hand through his hair again, he looked sleepily around the room for his jacket. Finding it thrown across the dark blue recliner, he stood, stretching his tall frame. Anne watched with appreciation of the rippling muscles, wishing again that she could feel more for him than friendship. She stood and walked with him to the door, hugging him fiercely before saying goodnight. Tonight had been his night off, and he had offered to watch Matt for her, so she wouldn't have to pay a babysitter. She had been happy to accept. Matt adored Mark, and vice versa.

Locking the door behind him, she turned and started straightening up the living room. A swell of pride formed in her as she did this, her mind calculating how many payments she had left before it was finally hers. The day she had seen it, she knew she had to have it. It was a single story, bungalow, with a wide front porch complete with swing. A large yard was surrounded by a wood rial fence. Visions of her and her child spending lazy evenings swinging on the porch swing, or planting flowers in the patches at the front of the house filled her head. She had written down the number and called the realtor immediately to set up an appointment to see the inside.

Mark had gone with her to meet the man, and he had lost some of the sparkle in his eye when he saw the wanna be rock star, and what he assumed was his girlfriend holding a baby. He had led them inside, showing them the large living room with it's bay window, the two decent sized bedrooms, the small but cheerful eat-in kitchen, and the bathroom. All the while he kept making reference as to 'why' this wasn't the house for them. Anne had walked through the rooms, imagining how her life would be there, and shot down everything the man said. Mark held onto his temper, as Anne, with the determination of a woman borne to be the Slayer, talked him into rushing the sale. She had taken the money she had left from what had been given to her before leaving Sunnydale, and had walked away the proud owner of her house. Mark had had to co-sign, since she was barely eighteen, and hadn't been at her job for a year yet. But it was hers, and she had proceeded to build a life, a life she never expected to have. By rights, she should have died, her calling guaranteed it. One afternoon in an abandoned mansion changed that forever.

Turning off the lights in the living room, Anne walked down the short hall to her son's room, and went in. Placing the toys she had gathered from the front, she placed them in the large plastic tub that served as his toy box. She then moved across the bare hardwood floor to gaze down at her miracle. His room was done completely in Scooby Doo, an irony not lost on her. From the border around his walls, to the sheets on his bed. A Scooby Doo nightlight was plugged into the wall, and that as well as the light from the hall, gave her enough illumination to see him by.

She reached out and gently brushed a dark brown curl away from his face. She frowned a little, as she thought about her last conversation with her mother. Anne knew she wasn't being fair, to her or Giles. Or Willow. She knew that she could have gone back, told them that the baby's father was a man that she had met while she was away. She would have been accepted back with open arms by all of them. But, she did have Matt, and he was all that mattered. She knew that one look at the blue eyes that were currently hiding behind his eyelids, and one glimpse of the defined cheek bones under the baby fat, and the others would know just who his father was. She wouldn't allow them, him, and the prejudices that simmered deep to try to make her ashamed, or sully the beautiful memory she held close to her heart. And she would kill the first person who made her son feel like a freak for having the Slayer and a soulless vampire for parents.

Pulling the edge of his Scooby Doo blanket up to his chin, Anne leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. She smiled when she caught the distinct whiff of chocolate and grape Kool-aid. Making a mental note to discuss with Mark the wrongness of brownies and Kool-aid before bed, as well as the benefits of a toothbrush, she turned and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She walked across the hall to her room, running her hands through her hair.

If her son's room was Scooby Doo heaven, Anne's room was her own private sanctuary. A large, wrought iron bed dominated the room. She had found it at a yard sale, and had enlisted a very unimpressed Mark into helping her get it home. The damn thing was heavy, but it was beautiful, and the price had been perfect, so, she had to have it. A handmade quilt in the colors of the sunset was draped across it, and pillows were piled high at the head. Mr Gordo was propped casually against them. The walls were painted an adobe color, and pictures of sunsets and shores lined the walls. A large oak dresser sat opposite the bed, with a haphazard array of cosmetics and beauty items littering the top. Two framed pictures sat on the nightstand next to her bed. One was of her and her mother, right before she got called. The second was of her, Willow and Giles in the library about a month before that horrible, wonderful day.

Grabbing a brush off her dresser, she began to pull it through her hair, the memory of the vampire she'd sensed returning to her. When she had left the Dream Room, the vamp had been gone. Since none of the girls or the customers had been hurt or disappeared, she had just shrugged it off and went in search of her next customer.

But now, as he pulled her nightgown over her head, she could admit what had been bothering her. The 'feel' of the vampire had been almost familiar, comforting in a way. Telling herself that what she was thinking was impossible, Anne crawled under the warmth of her quilt and sighed as the tension drained from her body. As she drifted into sleep, the face of the man that had haunted her for five years surfaced in her mind. It wasn't the face of an angel.

 

**Chapter Two**

  
Slowly, and with the stealth God granted the greatest of predators, he sought out his prey. Blue eyes peered over the edge of the bed, the sleeping woman peacefully lost in her dream world. She had no idea that she was being stalked, hunted. With a war whoop that would rival any Indians, he pounced. Only to find himself plucked out the air before he landed, and mercilessly being tickled. Shrill giggles filled the air as he admitted defeat, and tried to twist away from his mother.

"Mommy, stop!" Matthew Williams cried as squirmed in her arms.

"Oh, no. The tickle monster will not be denied." Anne said with a witch-like cackle. Laughter filled the room, much like it did every morning. Finally, when he was a limp mass of breathless giggles, Anne let him up.

"How'd ya know it was me?" He asked, smiling the smile of the happily defeated. She looked at him, hazel eyes dancing. His brown, curly hair fell across his forehead, blue eyes sparkled with the sunlight coming through the open windows. He was wearing his favorite pair of faded Scooby pajamas, and freckles dusted the bridge of his nose.

"It's a mom thing." she said, reaching out to tweak his nose. He giggled again, and began to excitedly jump on the bed.

"C'n I have panny cakes?" he asked, hope filling his eyes. She tilted her head back, and contemplated the ceiling.

"I dunno." She said, dragging it out. "I distinctly remember saying NO brownies before bed." She gave him the 'fess up now' look, one brow cocked and her mouth slightly pursed as she fought a grin.

"Mooommmmyyy." Matt cried, a shadow of his mother's pout forming on his face. Her grin broke free at the pleading sound of his voice.

"Alright."

"Yippee!" he squealed, throwing himself into her arms, then scrambled off the bed.

"Wait a minute, mister. Go get dressed first. You still have school today." she reminded him, chuckling at the crestfallen look on his face. He left the room, as slowly as he could, dragging his feet the whole time. She rolled her eyes, and pushed herself out of bed, wincing at the pain shooting up her legs.

A few minutes later, she emerged form her room, dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt with the word Tombstone emblazoned across it. She had never seen a ghost town before, so Mark had taken them the year before to "enlighten them to the history of the Old West."

"Come on Matt." she called as she passed his room.

"Coming." he answered, his less than enthusiastic answer making her chuckle yet again. Walking into her kitchen, she set about making pancakes. Matt came in just as she was pouring the first ones into the pan.

"Hey, sit down and drink your juice." She told him, indicating the glass on the table under the window. Not noticing the sullen look on his face, because she was looking away, she expertly flipped the pancakes. Sometimes, she still thought it was amazing that she had ever learned how to cook. There had seemed no point in Sunnydale. Her life consisted of school, slaying, and Angel. She sighed a little as the image of her first love danced in her memory. It didn't hurt to think about him anymore. In fact, it hadn't hurt in a long time. Once she had found out she was pregnant, Angel missage had taken a backseat. She had felt guilty about that for a long time. Like somehow, she was disrespecting his memory by not wallowing in sorrow. Now, all she felt when she allowed herself the indulgence of memories, was a bit of melancholy.

"Mommy." Matt's soft voice broke into her thoughts, and she turned to look at him. The scowl on his face had visions of another vampire swimming through her brain, and she marveled again at how much he looked like his father.

"What's the matter honey?" She asked, turning back to the stove.

"Why don't I have a daddy?" The clatter of the spatula made him jump, and he looked quizzically over at his mother. "Mommy, are you okay?" She was staring at him gaped mouthed, the spatula on the floor at her feet. She shook herself out of her shock, leaned down to pick up the utensil. Throwing it in the sink, she turned off the pan, and took the finished pancakes to the table, silently contemplating her answer. She sat across from him, looking into his eyes, a wave of love so strong flowing over her, she almost felt like she was drowning. Curiosity and pain clouded the blue orbs, letting her know something had spurred on this question, other than natural interest.

"Did something happen at school?" she asked him, placing two pancakes on his plate. He picked up his fork and started to push them around, his scowl deepening.

"No." came the glum response.

"Uh huh. Try again." Anne smiled at him, her eyes coaxing him to answer. He looked up at her quickly, then back down at his plate. Shoving a forkful of food into his mouth, he started to talk.

'Sam said, sat I wuf a legemate." he mumbled. Anne struggled to understand the gibberish, hoping she hadn't gotten it right.

"What did Sam say?" She asked when he had swallowed. She placed a hand on his wrist before he could shove more food in his mouth. "Try it without the word jumbler."

"Sam said that I was ilgityment. He said that means I don't have a daddy." Closing her eyes against the urge to go rip little Sammy's head off, she waited to answer.

"Of course you have a daddy, honey. All children have a daddy." She began. Giles had been wrong, demons weren't the danger. Tiny kids with big mouths were. Maybe Sam was a demon, she could take care of that, she considered, evilly.

"Then why innit he here?"

"Isn't." She corrected automatically, her mind scrambling for an answer. How the hell was she supposed to answer this? Gee honey, me and your father were only together for a day, and then he left before I found out I was pregnant. Oh, and by the way, he's a vampire. She thought she'd have a couple of years at least before she had to answer this. Plenty of time to think up something. But, he'd started preschool this year, and apparently that opened up a can of worms she wasn't prepared to deal with yet. Matt watched her as she struggled for an answer.

"Didn't he love us?" *Oh God* she moaned internally at his tiny question. Tears shimmered in the depths of his eyes, and his lip started to tremble.

"Baby, some things aren't that simple. Me and your father had something special. But, sometimes, circumstances can keep people apart. It isn't right, or fair, but it happens." Anne told him, pulling him from his chair and into her lap. He cried quietly against her chest, and Anne knew that there were some demons, she couldn't slay.

"Do you think he'll come back?" His voice was muffled against her shirt. She smiled into his hair, and placed a kiss on his head.

"Yeah, baby. I do."

~*~*~

Druscilla's eyes turned away from Spike to the statue of Acathla, a dreamy smile on her face.

"Oh, here he comes." she sighed. Spike used the opportunity to wrap his arm around her throat and start choking her. Across the room, Buffy and Angel turn towards each other, swords at the ready.

"You almost made it Buff." Angelus said with a sneer.

"It's not over yet." Buffy returned, steely determination etched on her face. Angel looked over his shoulder at the statue.

"My boy Acathla here is about to wake up. You're going to Hell."

"Save me a seat." At that , Buffy thrust her sword at him. He parried and swung around with a thrust of his own, only to be blocked by her. The sound of clashing blades rang through the room each trying for the advantage. Thrusts and parries, jumps and swings, neither quite able to catch the other off guard.

"I'm sorry baby." Spike said, as Dru started to lose consciousness in his arms. As she slumped to the floor, he hazarded a look out to the courtyard, where Angel had Buffy trapped against the wall, blade pointed at her head. "God, he's going to kill her." He muttered, before shrugging a shoulder and reaching down to gather Dru. As he leaned down, the supposedly unconscious figure of Dru swung up with the andiron. Stars burst behind Spike's eyes and he fell to the floor. He grabbed blindly at her ankle as she tried to scurry away

"Now that's everything, huh? No weapons. No friends. No hope." Angel taunted, smirking as Buffy's eyes drifted closed. "Take that all away, and what's left?" Not expecting an answer, he pulled his arm back, ready to deal the killing blow. To his amazement, the forward movement of the blade is stopped between the palms of her hands.

"Me." She shoved the blade away from her, slamming the hilt into his face causing him to stumble back. She jumped to her feet, one tiny foot slamming into his chest, pushing him back farther. In one fluid motion, she snatched her sword off the floor and the fight was on again, this time Buffy with the advantage.

Spike blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. Dru was swinging the andiron again, cracking it across his back. He managed to keep his hold on her leg, while the pain scorched through his body. A wild swing landed in her stomach, causing her to drop the metal. He yanked hard and she landed on her butt with a shriek. Kicking wildly at him, she rolled and tried to gain purchase on her knees. What she saw when she turned made her pause.

Angel was on his knees in front of Acathla, Buffy standing in front of him. Just as the Slayer was raising her sword to finish off the Master Vampire, he gasped loudly, a groan of pain spilling from his lips. She watched as his eyes glowed red, then quickly fade back to brown. Their eyes meet briefly before he collapsed, crying. She stared down at him, sword still fisted tight in her hand.

"Buffy?" Angel's soft, confused voice asked. "What's going on?" Her eyes narrowed, confusion tearing at her

Spike reared up to latch onto Dru again, his own attention drawn to the couple across the room. Something was up, he could tell by the slow lowering of the sword, the embrace. They were speaking to each other, their voices low as they clung to each other like children. Behind them, the statue rumbled, the face contorting and the eyes glowing red. The mouth of the statue opened, and the swirling vortex to Hell began to open. *Oh shit* Spike though, at the same instant Angel raised his head, confusion marring his face. Spike let go of Dru, ready to take care of Angel himself should Buffy falter. Rising shakily to his feet, he staggered forward a step, his interest in Dru forgotten for the moment. He watched as Buffy kissed Angel, then stepped away. Spike sank to his knees when he saw her raise her sword, a surprising amount of sympathy welling forward as she thrust it into her love. He would have never been able to it, he thought, as Angel's surprised, pain-filled eyes snapped open. She stepped farther away when Angel reached for her.

"Buffy." he gasped. Behind him, the vortex had grown, the energy crackling as the sword and vortex react.

"Noooo!!!!" Came the crazed scream, and in a flurry of motion, Dru threw herself at Angel, latching her arms around his neck as the vortex came into contact with Angel's blood.

"DRUSCILLA!" Spike screamed, surging forward as the vortex closed, without so much as a pop.

~*~*~

Spike shot to a sitting position, gasping huge gulps of unneeded air. Pushing his legs over the side of the bed, he thrust both hands through his hair, swallowing heavily against the grief that tore through him. Snatching his cigarettes off the nightstand, he sparked one, sucking greedily on the thin tube of nicotine. His hands were still shaking when he crushed it out, so, he lit another one.

He hadn't had that particular nightmare in almost four years. He knew that seeing Buffy again had sparked it, the reliving of that day. Usually, he only dreamt of the time afterwards, the day spent with her. But, the fact that she had seemed happy hurt him for some reason, and that trudged up the memories of his Dark Princess. The one that had betrayed him.

Shaking his head, he crushed out his second fag, and walked over to the table. Sunset was fast approaching, he could feel it in his blood. He'd have to decide what to do. He had looked for her for so long, and now, he was within reach. However, if just the brief sight of her brought back all the pain, what would an extended conversation do? He didn't want to go through all that again, and he found himself not wanting to put her through it either.

Grabbing the bag off the table, he pulled out the bottle of whiskey he had bought the night before. As he ripped the seal on the bottle and took a long swallow, the image of her from the night before whipped through is head. Her tiny, muscular body writhing to the pulsating music. Her wide smile as those wankers ogled her. Another surge of anger at the memory of her walking into the back with that git nearly choked him. Sex had permeated the hallway, and he had no problems imaging what happened back there. The thought of her selling herself sickened him.

A growl rumbled from his chest, the sound surprising him. Why should he care? *Because you didn't spend four years looking for her to see her turned into a bloody prostitute.* He sneered at himself. He knew himself well enough to know that he was jealous. All those men getting to taste her sweet little body. What happened that she would be willing to do such a thing? How bad could it be?

Growling again, he drained the bottle in four long swallows, watching as the ray of light around the window softened into evening. He'd go again, tonight, he decided. He had to see her, talk to her. Maybe then he could understand this feeling that was curling around inside of him. Dropping the empty bottle into the trash, he stalked into the bathroom to take a shower. He'd get some answers tonight, he swore to himself. Then he'd drag her out of there by her hair and beat her bloody for allowing those pukes to touch her.

 

**Chapter 3**

_Sunnydale 2003, one month earlier_

Joyce stared out into the night, listening as Xander and Willow retold the tale of Spike's visit.

"Then, he just stormed away." Xander finished, exchanging a look with the witch. Giles was sitting in the chair next to the couch, looking at the woman in front of the couch. The last five years had aged her considerably. Deep lines of worry and sadness etched her face, and where she was once spirited, she now seemed withdrawn. He didn't quite know what she had been hoping for, but it seemed that she had been disappointed once again.

"Y-you know, Mrs. Summers. I could do a location spell. . ." Willow started.

"No!" Joyce said sharply, turning to face the two friends. Sighing heavily, she sank down onto the couch, rubbing her eyes. "Buffy left for her own reasons." Not the least of which was her own mother kicking her out. She brushed the tears away that had sprung to her eyes, and looked at the trio, smiling when Giles moved to sit next to her. "I want her to come home because she wants to. Not because we forced the issue. She's not a child anymore." She had hoped to be able to talk to Spike, let him know that he had a child. He had a right to know, and from the way Buffy acted, she wanted him to know. But, he hadn't responded to her message to come see her, and who knew if he would come back.

"Thank you, Xander, Willow. It's getting late." Giles said, hinting it was time to leave.

"Oh, right. I'm just going to hit the head first." Xander said, darting up the stairs.

"I think I'll wait for him outside. Goodnight." Willow gave them a tight smile, then headed towards the door.

"Goodnight, Willow." The adults said together as the redhead let herself out.

She was pacing the length of the porch when Xander walked out, waving one last time as he shut the door.

"What the matter, Will?" He asked, following her down the steps.

"I don't like lying." She told him, glaring at him.

"You didn't" He reminded her, pulling something out of his pocket.

"I don't like you lying. You're getting too free with it. What's that?" She demanded, coming to a stop.

"Can you do the spell with this?" Xander asked, holding out a hairbrush. When Buffy had left, she had only grabbed a few things. Apparently the brush had slipped her notice. Willow's eyes widened comically as she stared at the brush like it might bite her.

"What? Xander, Joyce said no spell. Or weren't you listening?" She cried, voice shrill.

"Willow, of course she would say that. She's Buffy's mother. We're her friends. It's our duty to find her." He justified, still holding it out. Willow looked between it and him, doubt on her face.

"Xan. I don't know."

"Come on, Will. Don't you miss her?" Xander pulled out his last card to persuade her.

"Of course I do." But, Willow had a card of her own. "She's still pissed at you, Xander." She reminded him, quietly. The look that crossed his face brought tears to her eyes.

"I know. But if we wait for her, I'll never be able to tell her how sorry I am. It's been five years already. How long are we supposed to wait?" His eyes begged her to agree. Willow felt herself crumble under the weight of her own need to see her friend, and Xander's need for forgiveness. Sighing, she reached out and grabbed the brush.

"Fine, we'll do it. But, if she doesn't want to see us. We leave. Understand? She has a completely different life now." She told him, stalking away. His smile was grim as he followed her.

_San Rios, Arizona- One month later_

"I don't know what to do, Mark." Anne sighed. They were standing outside the Glamour Factory, Anne having come in a little early to get some advice from him. She leaned against the side of the building, then crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at busy Interstate 10. Most people were heading home at this time of day. She watched the cars wiz by, like one of them would give her the answers she needed. Mark stood next to her, hands in his pockets, cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Well, when was the last time you tried to find him?"

"Almost a year ago. I called Willy, but he didn't have anything new to say, other than he had passed through, but hadn't gone into the bar." She pushed a frustrated hand through her dark tresses. She had managed to get Matt calmed down enough to go to school, and once there, she had pulled the teacher aside and told her what had happened between Matt and Sam. The teacher had promised to talk to Sam, but Anne hadn't missed the slight look of disdain on the older woman's face. Sometimes, living in a small town was a bitch.

"That's the third time. You think he's going back, looking for you?"

"I guess. Willy said that he had given him the message I left. Granted, that was six months AFTER I left L. A." She pushed away from the wall and started pacing in front of him.

"I don't know what to tell you, sweets. Finding wayward vampires isn't exactly my forte." Mark said, crushing his cigarette out. "You know, I'm always willing to fill the void." He told her quietly. She stopped pacing, and turned to stare at him. He looked away, kicking a rock with the toe of his boot. His dark hair spilled over his shoulder, hiding his face.

"Mark, I. . ." She started, then faltered. It wasn't the first time he had offered to fill the gap in her's and Matt's otherwise happy lives. And it wasn't the first time that she wished that she could accept it. He had been her best friend for four years, never judging her. She didn't want to lose that.

"Hey, never mind. I was just kidding." He said quickly, wanting to kick himself. He knew better than to get his hopes up on a woman who was so clearly enamored with another man. It was just, he had never met a woman like Anne before, and he had a strange feeling that he never would again.

"MARK!" A loud, booming voice came from the entrance of the club.

"YEAH!" Mark yelled back, walking towards his boss. Ralph tapped his imitation Rolex watch, indicating it was time for him to come back to work. "Alright, already. Shit." Mark muttered, walking inside. Anne stared at his disappearing back, not noticing Ralph eyeballing her as well.

"Ah, Ms. Williams?" His sarcastic voice reached her ears, and she looked up at him. Ralph McKenzie was a short, bald man with a beer belly that protruded over the belt of his tan leisure suit. Gold glinted at his wrists and neck, and the pinky ring on his hand. "If it fits into your schedule, do you think that maybe, I dunno, you could come in and, dance, or something?" Anne rolled her eyes and hefted her bag. Taking one last look at I10, she walked inside. She never saw the black DeSoto pull into the parking lot.

~*~*~

Mark stood by the door, arms crossed over his black vested chest. He was Mr. Cover Charge tonight, since the girl who usually did it called out sick. So, he took their money, checked I. D. when necessary, and waved them through, all the while keeping an eye on the rest of the club. There were three other bouncers besides him, but only two worked during the week. One at the door, and one outside the rooms in the back, just in case some customer didn't understand the word 'no'. On Fridays and Saturdays, all four were there. One at the door, one on the floor, and two in the back.

Tonight, however, was your typical Tuesday. Mostly regulars, a couple of business men stopping by on the way home for a beer, and some college kids. Mark wasn't paying much mind to the people coming in the door. He did his job automatically, his mind rehashing the way he had made an ass out of himself in front of Anne. Again. It wasn't as if she hadn't made her feelings for him perfectly clear. On the contrary, she was nothing if not up-front about it. He just couldn't quite seem to let go. Sighing heavily, he turned towards the door when he heard it open.

The man that came in had him double taking, his eyes narrowing into slits. Shorter than himself, this man held an aura of danger around him like a shroud. Short, white hair was slicked back against his head, a scar sliced though his left eyebrow. A long leather duster draped over his lean frame, covering the well worn black jeans and t-shirt. Heavy combat boots adorned his feet. As he came closer to Mark, the bouncer prepared to demand I. D. Until he got a good look at his face. Mark felt his eyes widen, and his heart trip in his chest when he looked into the piercing blue eyes that he knew to belong to a smaller, younger version of this man.

*Oh, fuck!* He thought to himself, wondering if he could get Ralph to cover for a minute, so he could go find Anne.

Spike glared menacingly at the bouncer, not understanding the look on the man's face. It almost seemed like recognition, but the blonde had no memory of him.

"Gonna take my money, mate?" *FUCK. British.* Only one more thing to be sure. When Mark reached out to grab the money from his hand, he purposely brushed his fingers across the other man's. *Cold. Double fuck.* Blue eyes locked with brown when Spike caught on to what Mark had done. He shifted his eyes to look behind him, and saw the sharpened pool cue. When he looked back at Mark, he didn't see any fear, or any indication that he should be ducking soon. Just that same look of shock and familiarity. "Who's the owner of this fine establishment?" Mark's brow shot up at the sarcasm dripping off the word.

"Guy sitting at the bar. Looks like he's doing a bad Wayne Newton impression." Mark told him, jerking his head towards the bar. He was cursing violently in his head, knowing he'd never get away from the door now.

"Thanks." Spike sneered, swaggering away. Mark tried to keep an eye on him and the stage, all the while dealing with the people coming through the door. Anne's set wasn't starting for another half an hour, and if he could, he would shoot back to the dressing room.

Mark watched as Spike sauntered over to Ralph, and began talking to him. He saw Ralph shake his head, then Spike reached into his duster and pulled out a wad of bills, dropping them in front of the bald man. Ralph fingered the money, then looked back up at Spike. After about half a minute, he nodded, waving his hand in the direction of the rooms in the back. Spike mock saluted the man, then turned and moved towards the hall, plucking a beer off the tray of a waitress as he passed her. Ralph then pocketed the money, and got up, starting towards the dressing room.

*FUCK!*

~*~*~

"Anne, can I talk to you?" Ralph called, ignoring the indignant shouts of the other girls. She was sitting in a chair in front of the make up mirror, laughing at something Sue said.

"Yeah, what's up?" Anne asked him. She hadn't changed into her costume yet, and she still had on her Tombstone t-shirt and shorts. Her hair fell around her shoulders in waves, and her face was heavily made up for the stage. Sue sat next to her, her shimmering gold body suit hugging every curve. Her hair was now gold to match, as were the contacts that she wore.

"Sue, could you. . ." Ralph waved a hand, telling her to go away. With a roll of her eyes, Sue smiled at Anne and left. "A man came in here just now," he started, not sure how to put the request. He had come to respect Anne's temper over the years, and he didn't feel like bearing the brunt of it.

"A man? Call the newspaper, it might be an epidemic!" she gasped, smiling wide. Her smile faded when she saw how nervous he was. When Ralph was nervous, something was not of the good. "What's that matter?"

"This man requested to see you. In the Paradise Room."

"Hope you told him to fuck off." She replied icily. She could tell by the look he gave her, that he hadn't. "Dammit, Ralph, you KNOW. . .

"I know, I know. I told him that. He swears that he doesn't want that. He just wants to spend the evening with you. Gave me a thousand dollars for you." Anne's eyes widened at that, as Ralph pulled out the thick stack of bills.

"He drops a thousand dollars, and he doesn't want to. . ." confusion marred her brow. Guys with this much money sure as hell didn't come here. "Are you sure?"

"That's what he said. He's waiting for you now." Ralph held the money out to her, his percentage already pulled off the top. She tested the wait of the money in her hand while her mind warred with itself.

"If he touches me, he's leaving with a broken hand." She warned, standing to start to change. She did it quickly, not giving herself time to change her mind.

"Absolutely. I'll get Cindy to cover your set." She nodded as he moved away, her thoughts a jumbled mess in her head.

~*~*~

Mark began cursing again when he saw Anne walking through the club, dressed in a short black skirt, and a purple spaghetti strap tank. Black high heeled boots hugged her calves to her knees. He waved, trying to get her attention before she disappeared down the hall, with no luck.

*Fuck!*

~*~*~

Anne stepped through the door of the Paradise Room, heart pounding against her chest. The smell of sex and booze permeated the room, making her stomach churn as well. She kept her eyes down as she walked down the short hall, not wanting to catch a glimpse of the varying activities that were being performed. There was barely any light in the room but she didn't want to take any chances. The cubicles stretched from floor to ceiling, with a long curtain covering the doorway. There were about ten of them in all.

As she got closer to the one that held her visitor, she groaned as the familiar feeling washed over her. *Damn.* She cursed inwardly, now they were paying to have her dust them. A little happier now that she knew what to expect, she calculated just where every penny of the easy money was going to go. The light was even dimmer at the end of the hall, and completely nonexistent in the cubby she stepped into. Standing next to the curtain, she blinked her eyes to try to adjust them.

"You know, if you wanted to commit suicide, all you had to do was ask. You didn't have to pay for it." She quipped. The soft chuckle that reached her had the hairs on her arms standing on end. *No, it couldn't be* her mind denied, but her heart screamed for it to be true. A bright flare of a lighter, followed by the smell of smoke filled the tiny space. She sucked in a gasp as the lighter brightened his features, casting the harsh lines of his face in stark relief. She stood, shocked as he flipped the lighter closed and took his first drag.

"Hello, kitten." he crooned, the deep resonance of his voice drifting to her, over her like a caress.

"Spike."

_Sunnydale-Crawford Street Mansion 5 years earlier_

Buffy backed away from the stricken face of Angel. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she pressed her hands to her mouth, forcing her scream to stay inside. He looked down at the sword imbedded in his stomach, then back at her, a combined look of hurt, shock and love on his face. As the vortex started to pull him in, a loud wail that rivaled an animal filled the room. Buffy was knocked to the floor when Dru flew passed her, Spike one step behind her. Druscilla wrapped her arms around Angel just as the vortex closed, with nothing even as dramatic as a sizzle.

"DRUSCILLA!" Spike screamed, falling to his knees in front of the spot where his dark princess disappeared. He stared in disbelief at the space that was now empty. With a sound caught between a sob and a scream, the blonde vampire launched at the statue, his first punch causing a crack around the neck, and shattering the bones of his hand. Tears coursed unnoticed down his cheeks as he assaulted the stone. His arm screamed with pain, but he didn't care. Finally, he gave up punching and sent a powerful kick straight to the center of it's chest, making it crack in half. It wasn't enough.

When Spike advanced on it again, he felt a pair of tiny hands on his shoulders. He roared when Buffy flung him around, her face twisted with the same pain and grief that was tearing him apart.

"Stop! They're gone." She yelled, her voice raw and hoarse. "They're gone." she whispered again, her hand loosening on his duster, and she crumpled to the floor. A part of her brain realized that she was very likely going to get killed. But, the larger part of her didn't care. *Let him kill me* she thought, as the pain of losing Angel threatened to cripple her. She had chosen the world over love, and nothing mattered any more.

When she felt him over her, she silently screamed thank you, and waited for the sting of his fangs in her throat. When instead she felt herself being picked up, and cradled against his chest, her eyes flew open.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, struggling weakly. His lips trembled as his own tears fell, and he glanced down at her.

"Going to clean you up." He answered, shortly, walking up the stairs.

"Why aren't you going to kill me?" She asked, an angry tone to her words. His lips actually quirked at that.

"You don't want to die. Anyway, who would kill me, then?" He asked, kicking the door to his room open.

"Don't think so. If you won't kill me, I won't kill you."

"Well, I guess we have an understanding then." Truth be told, he didn't have a clue what he was doing. The sight of her, crumpled like a rag doll on the floor, had been enough to knock out a small portion of his own pain. He'd had to get out of that room, but also had a need not to be alone. Unlike her, he didn't have anybody, now that his dark princess was gone. She must've sensed this, because she sat quietly on the bed where he placed her, and watched him move to the bathroom. He shrugged out of his duster when he returned, cursing when the arm caught on his injured hand. Snatching the first aid kit away from him, she grabbed his good hand and pulled him to the bed. He allowed her to focus her attention on his injury, hissing when she dabbed antiseptic on it. He studied the fall of her golden hair, tying to force his mind to go blank. The image of Dru's ultimate decision kept replaying in his mind in slow motion. She only wanted her daddy.

His body started to shake as sobs tore through him again. Buffy looked up after she wrapped his hand, her own grief surging once more at the anguish etched in the vampire's face. Before either of them realized what was happening, they were laying together on the bed, arms banded tight around each other as they cried out their pain.

At some point, they must have fallen asleep. Buffy jerked awake with start, the feel of two strong arms around her confusing her. Suddenly, memory rushed back, and hot tears spilled down her cheeks once more. She found herself looking into the bright blue eyes of her mortal enemy, the agony she felt mirrored back to her. He reached up and brushed her tears away, the feel of his cool hand against her hot face soothing.

"Shh, kitten." He whispered, wiping the moisture from her lashes. She nuzzled her face against his hand. When he traced a finger across her lip, she felt a tremor pulse through her. She arched against him, tightening her arm around his waist. Spike watched the color of her eyes darken to emerald. "Buffy. . ." he rasped, his eyes searching hers. His body was responding to her closeness, the smell of her skin. When her hand came up to still his words, he captured it with his own, then pressed it against his lips. She shivered when she felt the tip of his tongue tease the palm of her hand.

"Just for today." she gasped, pressing herself closer to him. "Make me forget." He closed his eyes briefly, thinking about what she was asking. When he opened them again, the grief was stripped away, replaced by something hot and heady. She felt herself respond, her skin tingling with the look of promise in his face.

"Don't think." He said, before he crushed his mouth to hers. She couldn't if she had tried. As soon as his lips touched hers, she felt like she was being burned by icy heat. She almost felt like she was drowning as his teeth nipped her bottom lip. His tongue swept across it to soothe and tease, then dipped inside to taste. At the first tentative touch of their tongues, everything but each other was forgotten. Her fingers fisted in his hair as he tried to devour her, taking everything she gave and giving back equal in return. She tasted like sunshine and life and Spike found himself desperate for more. His good hand skimmed under her shirt, his rough fingers gliding over the silken skin of her back. She trembled against him, her moan lost in his mouth.

She kissed him back hungrily, her tongue dueling with his. The term 'homemade sin' popped stupidly into her head, and she decided this must be what he tasted like. Nothing like anything she had tasted before. Cigarettes and beer, with a slight coppery taste combined into an intoxicating bouquet that screamed Spike. She gasped a breath as she changed the angle, deepening the kiss. Clothes suddenly became a hindrance as they tried to touch everywhere at once. The evidence of his arousal pressed firmly against her thigh, and she wanted it. Now. Tearing her mouth away from his, she pushed him onto his back, she rose above him like a goddess, her golden hair framing her flushed face. Hastily yanking her shirt over her head, she grabbed his unbandaged hand and placed it over her breast. Surging up, he caught the stiff nub of the other in his mouth, sucking hard. His hand mimicked the movements of his tongue on her flesh. She clutched the back of his head, and ground her denim covered heat into his likewise hindered erection. Mewling noises escaped her throat as he worked his magic on her breasts, his hips thrusting up in time with her movements against him. Soft growls were muffled against her skin, as his hand traveled to the band of her jeans. His mouth switched to lavish attention on the other soft swell of her bosom, and his fingers deftly popped the clasp of her pants.

"Off, now." He hissed, releasing her so she could remove them. He sat up to do the same, and once they were both naked, they reached for each other again. Spike rolled them until she was on her back, legs wrapped firmly around his hips. He fused his mouth against hers again, his shaft sliding slickly over her burning wet sex. He pulled away from her again, trailing kisses down her torso, his destination clear. The first touch of his tongue to her aching clit almost sent Buffy over the edge immediately.

"Oh, God!" she sobbed, spreading her legs further to afford him better access, she clutched desperately at the bed. Spike took his time lapping and savoring the sweet juices pooled in her folds. Each pass of his tongue and lips over her sizzling heat caused her to jerk her hips, begging for release. Her skin felt too tight and hot, her stomach fluttered and her breathing came in gasps. She writhed helplessly beneath the expert motions of his mouth. When he gripped her thighs and drove his tongue straight into the very center of her, she screamed, high and long, back arching off the bed. Spike greedily drank all that spilled from her, then attacked her clit once more. Buffy thought it was impossible to cum again so quickly, but she found herself doing so with just a few stiff strokes of his amazing tongue. She was practically sobbing with pleasure by the time he crawled up her body and slid effortlessly into her still fluttering cunt. Their dual moans of rapture melded into one as his cool shaft stretched and filled her. Her heat scorched him, and Spike's eyes rolled back in his head at the feel of her surrounding him. Buffy's legs came up to lock around his hips, her hands sliding restlessly over his back. He stayed still within her, until he was sure that he wouldn't lose control. Then, with a slow rocking motion, he began to thrust. With each plunge he pulled out just a little more, making his strokes longer, more forceful. She met him, thrust for thrust, until they were moving together in a frenzy. He buried his face in her throat, his lips and tongue laving the skin over her jugular. The thrill that he could kill her and she would be helpless to stop it pushed her over the edge. She arched against him when her climax slammed through her, her fingers pressing his lips more firmly against her flesh.

Her muscles clamped hard around him, milking him, and he roared against her throat as he stiffened against her. His cold seed shot up into her womb, cooling her from the inside out. No sooner had they calmed down, than they were at it again. Over and over they took each other, each time the grief and pain threatened to crash through, until they were both raw, and exhausted. When sleep finally claimed them, they were wrapped tightly around each other, laying on their sides, Spike stilled buried to the hilt inside of her, the twin holes of his bite already starting to heal on her neck.

**Chapter 4**

Spike sat in the plush, velveteen chair, silently smoking as his yellow eyes easily watched the play of emotion across her face. Shock was first, as he expected. That was followed quickly by a flash of anger, disbelief, and finally, longing. He hadn't expected the last one, but, he felt the same way. Standing in one smooth motion, he crushed out his cigarette and strode towards her. He stopped within a breath of her, the heat from her body warming him. He cocked his head to the side, and captured his bottom lip through his now blunt, human teeth. He brought a hand up and slid the back of his knuckles over her cheek, down her jaw, and along the line of her throat, hovering lightly over the faded scar of his bite.

"Miss me?" His voice was a mix of menace and teasing, lust coating each syllable. Instead of answering, her arm wound around his neck, and her mouth covered his in a searing kiss. Spike stood stunned for half a second before he was kissing her back, his leather clad arms crushing her against his lean form. Time stood still as their mouths glided over each other, and they found themselves adrift on a sea of sensation. Memories and thoughts receded as their bodies responded to each other.

Anne hadn't realized how much she needed. . .wanted, this. She had wanted to see him, tell him he had a child, and give him the opportunity to be a part of his life. But she hadn't known until he touched her, that it was HIM she wanted. For both of them.

Spike's growl filled her as his tongue tangled with hers. As sweet as he remembered, and so hot. He could take a daily trot in the sun, and still not burn the way she made him. He picked her up and braced her against the flimsy wall, pulling her legs up to wrap around his waist. The heels of her boots dug into his thighs, but he didn't notice. His hands gripped painfully on her hips, and she didn't care. All that mattered was the feel of his lips on hers, his taste filling her, his cool, hard body pressed against hers, his soft hair flowing through her fingers. Every nerve was alive and singing, fully attuned to him.

Spike lost himself in the taste of her. She still tasted like sunshine, she still felt like sin. Her scent surrounded him, clouding his mind even further and driving his need to the edge. It seemed like the entire world began and ended with her, because nothing before her had touched him this deep. Not even Dru. Five years of wanting poured from him and into her. Five years of searching had come to an end. She was here, and warm and oh so sweet. He really didn't understand how he could have left her back then. Not when every sense was filled with her, every cell screaming to be joined with this woman, his equal. Spike reluctantly broke away from her mouth to allow her to breathe, and trailed a line of cool, wet kisses along her cheek to her ear.

"Buffy," he moaned, before capturing the lobe in his teeth. The sound of her real name, husky and soft, pulled her out of her sensual daze. She tightened her fingers in his hair, and wrenched his head back with more force than she had meant. "Bloody hell!" he cursed, releasing his hold in her. "What the fuck was that for?" he growled.

Anne didn't answer him, too preoccupied with trying to reign in her raging hormones.

"Slayer." He snarled, the word a mix of lust, anger and frustration.

"Wait, Spike." She gasped, pressing a hand against his chest, almost as if she was trying to make sure he was real, despite the very intimate contact they had just had.

"What's the matter?" His tone had softened, and he stepped closer to her again.

"I didn't think that I would ever see you again." And there it was. The doubt that she had carried with her since the day she had found out she was pregnant broke free, and her fingers fisted in his shirt, tears springing to her eyes. Suddenly, she was sobbing, and he was gathering her up in his arms, hands running over her back and making her shiver.

"Sh, it's okay, kitten. I'm here now. It took me a long time, but I'm here." He whispered against her hair, the scent of apples tickling his nose. She clutched him to her, her tears causing her to shake in his arms. After a few minutes, she calmed, and just relished the feel of his arms around her.

"We need to talk." She whispered, emotion clogging her throat. Spike frowned at the tone of her voice.

"Come back to my room with me, then," he said.

"I can't tonight." She replied, a slight tinge of regret in her voice. Spike stiffened in her arms, a stab of something nasty piercing his heart.

"Somebody at home waiting." He bit out each word, anger coating his voice. He felt her sigh, and allowed her to step back.

"Yeah," she answered simply. She couldn't see his reaction in the dark room, but she heard the low, dangerous growl and it caused her to shiver.

"Really? And what does he think of his woman working in a place that's no better than a whorehouse?" The flare of the lighter showed the rage filled lines of his demon visage. *Oh, this is going well* Anne thought, rubbing a hand over her forehead in an attempt to ease the headache forming.

"This isn't a whorehouse, Spike. And he doesn't know." This caused an eruption from the blonde that equaled any volcano.

"HE DOESN'T KNOW! And how do you explain coming home smelling like other men? Or do you shower their stink off before you go home to crawl in next to him and cuddle up for the night?" Anne held tight on her temper, reminding herself that he was only reacting to the non-information that she had given him. But, she didn't want to blurt it out about Matt, not here. She wanted to be able to have a supposed adult conversation with him. Which would be hard to do if Spike was dust.

"It's not like that." She started, before he cut her off again.

"Oh, it's not. How would he feel if he knew that you were just all over me like a bitch in heat? How would he feel knowing that I can make you burn?" This last bit was said in a low voice, the resonance and pitch accentuating the lilt of his accent. Her body responded even though her temper snapped.

"Do you even THINK before you open your mouth? Or do you just let whatever shit that pops up roll out?" She snapped. "I said it wasn't like that. Now, if you want to talk, give me the name of your fucking hotel, and I will meet you there tomorrow night after sundown. If you don't want to hear what I have to say, don't let the door hit you on the way out." Spike dragged deeply on his cigarette, trying to reign in his famous temper. When he finally felt calm enough to speak again, he crushed out the cigarette.

"Fine. I'm staying at the Days Inn on Lexington. Room 12." He ground out. She didn't back up when he crowded her, his cool breath tickling her face. "Just make sure your man doesn't come looking for you. I don't like sharing. Got my fill of that five years ago." He finished, crushing his mouth against hers, branding her. Anne slumped against the partition when he released her, unfulfilled arousal making her ache, anger causing her to burn.

~*~*~

"Are you sure this is it?" Xander asked the redhead sitting next to him as he pulled off of Interstate 10 towards San Rios. Willow glared at him in the darkness, before turning to look back out the window.

"Yes" was all she said as she watched the buildings pass by. San Rios was your typical small town, it seemed. Not that much different than Sunnydale. In fact, if it wasn't for the cacti, the dry desert grass, and the mountains in the distance, she would have thought that they had made a wrong turn somewhere and were home. They were currently traveling down the main street, which took them straight through the middle of town. Darkened storefronts had faces that were reminiscent of the old west. The movie theater looked like the kind from the 1950's, the Marquee boasting two of the newest releases. Occasionally, a Blockbuster, or a McDonald's would emerge, their modern structures seeming garish against the rest of the town. When they passed the courthouse, Willow almost giggled. She fully expected to see a gallows constructed in front of the huge brick structure, it's white columns gleaming in the light from the lamps, with some poor hapless horse thief swinging from the end of a noose. As they made their way into the residential part of town, tiny bungalows and ranchers spread along the road.

"Where to now?" He asked, breaking her away from her thoughts of saloons and gunslingers.

"There. Sleep." She ordered when the Days Inn came into sight. He looked over at her, clearly about to argue. One look at the resolve face had him changing his mind. It HAD been a long day, and they were both tired. With a sigh, Xander made the turn and maneuvered the old truck into the parking space in front of the office. "Two rooms," she reminded him as he climbed out of the cab.

"I know," he said before slamming the door. Willow just raised a brow. Sighing to herself, she stretched her sore muscles out, thankful that she was about to slip into cool sheets. This trip had not been easy on either of them, With a great deal of reluctance, Willow had performed the spell. Then they'd had to get their stories straight on what to tell Giles, and she'd had to finish her finals. Xander had grumbled when she said that she wouldn't leave before then. Now, they were here, and she was filled with a combination of excitement and trepidation. She wanted to see Buffy, but she didn't want to cause her pain. Joyce had confided in her, and Willow knew about her son. And she knew who the father was. Of course, she didn't find out that bit of information out until after Spike had left this last time, or she would have never let Xander talk her out of telling Spike Joyce's message. It also explained a lot about Buffy's reluctance to return to her family and friends. Having a child with a soulless, evil vampire that had tried to kill them all on more than one occasion couldn't have been an easy thing to deal with. Much less having to deal with the shocked, and in some cases appalled, reactions of those that loved her

"Here you go," Xander said, opening the door. "14 and 16." He tossed her the key and went to go pull their bags out of the back. Willow got out of the cab and turned to face the direction of the town.

As she looked out at the lights shining from the tiny burg, she hoped with all her heart that she hadn't made a mistake in coming here with Xander.

~*~*~

Anne walked out of her bedroom, braiding the long length of her hair. Her eyes were distant as she thought about the events of the evening. Seeing Spike, (well, she hadn't actually _seen_ him, since it was so dark in the room) had opened up a floodgate of emotion she hadn't realized was there. She **had** missed him. And since they had spent most of their time trying to kill each other before that fateful day, it seemed a little odd. She had figured whenever she got that little pang in her heart when she looked at Matt, it was because she wished that Spike was there to watch him grow up. To see this miracle that had been given to them, a vampire and a Slayer.

Sighing heavily, she walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. Filling the kettle with water, she felt her skin heat up again at the memory of him pressed against her. After he had spouted out the name of the hotel, he had left, anger radiating off of him. She had waited five full minutes before darting back to the dressing room and using the back entrance to escape Mark's questioning eyes. She would tell him about it later, she just couldn't deal with it then. When she had gotten home, she had sent the babysitter off with her full night's pay, then had put Matt to bed herself. After the third story, he had gone to sleep, his tiny arm wrapped around the stuffed Scooby Mark had given him for his birthday. She had then gone and taken a shower, letting the warm water and her hand wash the tension away. It wasn't the first time in the past five years that she had pleasured herself thinking of him. At first, she had convinced herself that it was because it was too painful to think of Angel. Then of course there was the full day that she had spent with Spike learning just about everything about sex that she hadn't gotten to with her first love. So, she told herself that she just had more material to work with there. She had loved Angel, totally and fully, but it had been the blonde vampire that had snuck into her thoughts late at night, when it was quiet. And Matt looking just like him didn't help.

Putting the kettle on the stove, she turned it on then went in search of the tea that Mark had given her from his grandmother. It was an old Indian brew which was supposed to relieve tension. And boy was she tense. As she drove home, another doubt started to wiggle it's way to the front of her mind.

What, if after she told him about his son, Spike didn't want to be a father? He was a vampire. A soulless vampire at that. His life was full of blood, death, and destruction. Hell, he probably ATE children. For that matter, why did she WANT him to know? She sighed as she dropped the homemade teabag into her mug. She knew why. It was because he could also be gentle and caring. She instinctively knew that he would make a good father. And she wanted that for her son. She just had to figure out what she wanted for herself.

Pouring the hot water over the teabag, she thought about her instant reaction to his tender caress. She had often wondered, when she would see the scar on her neck, if he had claimed her with that bite. She hadn't thought so, because she didn't think it would've been that easy for him to walk away if he had. Granted, now that she looked back, it hadn't really been that easy. It was just neither thought that they could stay together. They hadn't parted as enemies, but they didn't think that they were friends, either.

Pulling out the bottle of aspirin, she downed two then picked up her mug and took it back into her bedroom. She had a lot of thinking to do.

_Los Angeles, five years earlier_

Buffy and Spike leaned against the hood of the DeSoto, looking up into the starry night sky. He was smoking a cigarette, and she was playing with the straw of her drink. Both were still having a hard time grasping that little more than twenty four hours before, their lives had been changed irreversibly. After they had woken up, they had showered, separately, neither discussing what had happened between them. Then, they had walked out of the mansion, and straight to his car. He hadn't questioned her when she climbed into the passenger seat, just put the car in gear and left the town of Sunnydale without a backward glance. They hadn't spoken, each lost in their memories, and the tangled jumble of emotion where the other was concerned. Once they had reached L. A., Spike had pulled into a fast food restaurant, handing her some money before going in search of his own dinner. He hadn't been into the kill, and he had left the woman alive in an alley before heading back to meet her. She didn't question him when he returned, merely climbed into the car and waited for him to do the same.

Now, they were here, sitting in a parking lot by the beach, the sound of the waves and people on the boardwalk filling their ears.

"What are you going to do, now?" She asked, chewing on the straw. He took a deep breath, hazarding a glance at her.

"I dunno." He said with a shrug. "I can't stay here, though." She nodded in response, looking thoughtfully at the ocean.

"I have to stay close. At least until the new Slayer shows up in Sunnydale." Buffy said, fighting back the fresh wave of tears that burned her eyes. Kendra, her mind screamed. He quietly reached out and took her hand, offering comfort once again. She looked down at their joined fingers, wondering why it felt so right.

"I have a place here. Rent's paid up for a few months, if you want to stay there," he said, flicking the fag away.

"Thanks," she whispered, feeling her throat tighten. He stood then, gently tugging her to her feet.

"Come on, let's go get you settled."

The place was small, but clean. The door opened into the living room, and to the left was the tiny kitchen. Down a short hall was the single bedroom and bath. The couch and matching chairs were leather, and the coffee table was gold and glass. A large screen tv dominated the wall, along with a VCR and cd player. The bed was a simple queen, with a blue satin comforter thrown across it. Heavy curtains covered all the windows, to protect the occupants from the deadly UV rays of the sun.

They had stood in the bedroom for a minute, not quite sure what to do. Then, Buffy had simply stripped out of her clothes and crawled into the bed, too tired and drained to worry about nerves. When Spike had followed her, she had snuggled into his arms, and was quickly asleep.

When she woke up the next day, she found herself alone, a thick, long envelope on the pillow next to her. Sitting up and wiping sleep out of her eyes, she picked it up, a sharp feeling of dread lancing through her. With a deep breath, she slid her finger under the flap, eyes widening at the amount of money inside. Five stacks of one hundred dollar bills landed on her lap, as well as a letter. Picking it up, she quickly unfolded it and scanned it.

_Buffy,_

_Sorry to leave before you wake up, but, I hate goodbyes. A part of me really wishes I could stay, luv, but we both know that would be a mistake. I'll never regret what happened between us. It was the first purely beautiful event in my life. Take care of yourself, and be strong. I've left you a spot of cash, not for services rendered, so to speak. I want to make sure you're okay, and your age at the moment will hinder your job aspects. We're no longer enemies, kitten. Be well, it was an honor to know you._

_Spike._

Buffy folded the letter, and put it and the money back in the envelope. Standing, she rushed into the bathroom and threw up, feeling for the first time that she was totally alone. She knew he was right, but that didn't make it any easier to accept his absence. The pain hadn't seemed as sharp with him there.

After she was done, she flushed the toilet, and splashed some cold water on her face. She then padded back to the bedroom, pausing as she was climbing back into bed. Her eyes were drawn to something black on the floor. Bending down to retrieve it, she came up with his t-shirt. Tears ran down her face as she lifted it to her nose. A brief sniff brought his scent to her. Soap, and something cool and spicy. Slipping it quickly over her head, she took comfort in it and climbed back into bed, quickly falling back into an exhausted slumber.

 

**Chapter Five**

  
Anne stood outside door number twelve, staring at it like the next apocalypse waited on the other side. She hadn't slept a wink the night before, her thoughts a tangled mess in her head. Every doubt and worry she had been harboring transcended from her subconscious and spent the night glaring brightly in her brain. Mark had called the next morning after Matt went to school, wanting to know what had happened. She hadn't been surprised that he had recognized Spike, it wasn't like Matt looked like her, except for his dark hair. Of course, she didn't actually know what Spike's natural hair color was, but that wasn't the point. She had told him the edited version. Mark had known that she was leaving stuff out, but he didn't push, pretty sure he didn't WANT to know. He offered her his unflagging support, like always, and had told her to call him when she got home from telling Spike about his son.

She had then spent the day cleaning her already spotless house, attacking nonexistent dust bunnies like they were demons. That had been one side benefit to slaying, if you had some tension, go find a big nasty to beat on. Once she had picked Matt up from school, and had spent the day running errands, with a surprise trip to McDonald's for Happy Meals and milk shakes, the day flew by. Before she knew it, it was bath time for Matt. Then she had sat him down on the couch for his millionth showing of Scooby Doo on Zombie Island to wait for his sitter, Molly, to show up. All too soon, it was time for her to leave, and she had gathered up the pictures she was going to take to Spike, kissed Matt and left.

Now she was here, and the sun was fading fast behind her. With a deep sigh, she knocked on the door. Her heart was pounding in her ears, her stomach was churning dangerously, and a cold sweat had broken out on her skin. She hadn't been this nervous in a long time. She had good reason, as soon as he opened the door, life was going to change for better or worse. She could only pray that it wasn't worse.

The door swung open on silent hinges, its occupant standing behind it to avoid the last rays of the sun. Taking a bolstering breath, Anne stepped through into the darkened room.

Just as the door closed, another one opened. Xander and Willow emerged from her room, ready to begin their search for their missing friend. As they moved towards his truck, one of the cars in the parking lot caught the redhead's attention. Her eyes widened as she recognized the big, black car with the blacked out windows sitting next to a blue Honda Accord. As quickly as she could, she got into the cab, praying that Xander wouldn't see it.

She sighed in relief when he turned the truck around, then pulled out of the parking lot, none the wiser to Spike's presence in town.

~*~*~

"Hello, kitten. I see you were able to get away." Spike sneered, brazenly running his eyes over her. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a blue tank top and sneakers. Her dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and her face was devoid of make up. She was clutching an envelope to her chest, and she smelled of nervousness. Sitting down on the bed, Spike dug into the pocket of his duster and pulled out his cigarettes. "Gonna stare all night, or are you going to tell me what's eating you on the inside?" He asked, lighting the fag.

"I don't really know how to say this." She began, looking down at the envelope in her hand. This was hard, harder than she expected it to be. He watched her from the bed, shirtless and barefoot, his hair a tousled mass of curls on his head. She felt her body respond to the sight, memories surging forward to remind her of what he felt like, tasted like. Shaking it off, she looked into his eyes. The blue orbs burned her as she struggled for the right words. How do you tell a vampire that he's a father? Her inner voice asked.

"Buffy, tell me." His soft voice drifted to her, and she hazarded to meet his gaze. Gone was the arrogant smirk from when he opened the door. In it's place was a look of open curiosity and a bit of concern. . .and fear. He was as afraid of what she had to say, as she was to tell him. Taking another deep breath, she started.

"I have a son. He's four." She waited a beat to see his reaction. He moved so fast that she almost didn't see him until he was gripping her arms painfully. Rage twisted his handsome features as he glared down at her. The only thought reverberating through his mind was that she had been with someone else after him, and that shit was either letting her work in that hellhole, or he had left her alone with a baby to raise.

"Who?" He growled, his blue orbs flashing gold. Anne was so stunned, that it took a minute to comprehend his question. "I'll kill him. WHO. TOUCHED. YOU!?" The seething jealousy and anger sent her reeling for another loop, and she had to fight back the tremor of fear.

"Let me go, and I'll tell you." She said, her eyes imploring him to calm down. With a snarl, he let her go and started to stalk the length of the room. She watched him for a minute, trying to calm her nerves. *Good way to start, Annie. Got him good and pissed off.* She yelled at herself. Sighing again, she opened the envelope and pulled out a picture. It was of Matt, on his last birthday, and he was smiling hugely at the camera. She held it out to him, flinching when he snatched it from her. She watched him as he looked at it, knew the second recognition hit him. His hands started shaking and he sank to the edge of the bed, the cigarette in his hand forgotten.

"This isn't possible," he gasped, reaching up to trace a finger over the cherubic face of the child.

"Apparently, it is." She said, moving to sit on the other bed, facing him. His eyes met hers, shock permeating their depths. He looked back down at the picture, awe softening his features.

"How?" he gasped, his voice choked. Tears sprang to her eyes in response to the ones glistening in his. He looked so vulnerable, and all Anne wanted to do was reach out and hold him. But, he needed answers, and she had to give them. Linking her fingers in her lap, she started to speak.

_Los Angeles, six weeks after Spike left_

Buffy knew with distinct clarity that something was wrong. What she had at first thought was just a case of the flu, was quickly turning into something else. Every day, for the last two weeks, she had woken up throwing up. She was tired all the time, no matter how much sleep she got. Not to mention, she was late. Very late. A month late to be precise. She had thought that it was just the stress from everything that had happened, but, since the onslaught of her 'flu', she'd started to change her mind.

The only conclusion she could draw was impossible. Staring down at her hands in the waiting room, she waited to be called in to see the doctor, all the while trying to convince herself that it was JUST the flu. She glanced around the room, taking in the various women that were waiting as well. One girl didn't look to be any older than herself, and she was ready to pop. They briefly made eye contact, exchanging tight smiles before looking away. Buffy's Slayer sense was going crazy, thanks to the blue demon woman sitting next to her. Once she had become suspicious of what was really wrong with her, she had called Willy in hopes that he knew of someone who specialized in just such things. He had, and had quickly given her the number, his response to her threat being of course he wouldn't tell anybody.

So, here she was, surrounded by various demon and human women, some with the fathers some not. She could only guess at what had gotten the other young girl pregnant, and she shuddered.

"Ms. Summers?" Buffy looked up at the pretty blonde nurse, and got up. She followed her into the examining room, and changed into the paper gown. She had done the bathroom thing when she got there, and now she was waiting for the results. A few minutes after the nurse had left, a quick knock sounded on the door to alert her to the doctor. When he walked in, she found herself staring at a kindly looking older man, with gray hair and face reminiscent of Santa Claus. The only disturbing thing about him seemed to be the onyx colored eyes with yellow pupils.

"Well, Ms. Summers. How are you today?" He asked, looking up from his file. His smile put her at ease, even if it didn't shut her Slayer sense up.

"Been better. What did the test say?" She asked without preamble. His kind, odd eyes met hers, and he came over to sit on the stool by the examining table.

"I think you know already." He told her. She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes.

"No, it's impossible." She gasped, her fingers clenching in her lap.

"I take it he was a vampire?" She nodded her head, sniffling. "You're the Slayer, right?" Her eyes shot to his at that, a frown pulling her brows together.

"Yeah, so?" Buffy asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice. She tensed, wishing she had thought to keep her stake handy. He chuckled, as if reading her thoughts.

"It's okay. You won't need it." Her eyes widened at that. "I'm a doctor, Ms. Summers. I had to take the same oath your pediatrician took. Do no harm?" He said at her confused look.

"Oh. So, how did this happen? I didn't think vampires could have. . .children." She nearly choked on the last word, her voice trembling. Sympathy suffused his face as he regarded the young girl in front of him. He could tell that she'd had some hard times. Pretty recently, if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication.

"They can't. With other vampires." He shifted on the stool, and continued. "I didn't think they could with humans, either. But, I'm willing to bet that it has something to do with you being the Slayer. I've never seen it, but, you are also the first Slayer that I have ever met."

"Will it be. . ." she trailed off, afraid to ask.

"Will it be human or vampire?" He waited for her to nod. "I don't know. Like I said, I have never seen this before. But, it's safe to say that since the host is human, the baby should be human as well. Although, it will have some attributes of the father also." He told her. Looking down at his file, he started to write something on his prescription pad. "I want you to get this filled. It's prenatal vitamins. Schedule an appointment with Nancy for next week, we'll start doing some tests then. Alright?"

"Okay." She stared down at the paper in her hand, fear and disbelief rolling through her. Pregnant? By Spike? The doctor was just as confused as she was, and now she had to have tests.

"Don't worry, Ms. Summers. Everything will work out. I'm going to go get the nurse, then we can do the pelvic, and take some blood, alright?" He waited for her to nod, gently patted her hand, then stood to leave. As soon as the door closed, Buffy buried her face in her hands and cried.

_San Rios, Arizona_

Spike had stared at the picture through the whole telling of her story. When she was finished, he looked up at her, amazement spread across his face.

"I'm a father." He whispered, the wonder in his voice making her smile.

"Yeah. You're a father. I tried to find you." she said, picking at her nail polish.

"I know. I got your message. I'm sorry, Buffy. That I wasn't there." A tear slid down his cheek. Happiness spread through her at his words.

"You would have wanted to be?" She gasped. He looked at her as if she had sprouted a second head.

"Christ, Buffy. Of course. Why wouldn't I want that?"

"Well. You know. Big Bad, and all that." she reminded him, making a face that indicated 'grr'. He rolled his eyes.

"I haven't been that in a long time now, pet. Not since. . ." he waved a hand in the air, indicating that day. "Spent too much time looking for you." he added with a smile. His eyes drifted to the picture once again, a feeling he had never felt before expanding in his chest. This little one was his. HIS. He had never thought. . .never dreamed. He didn't even have the slightest clue at how to be a father. He ran a hand through his hair, fighting back the wave of panic that hit him. "Is he. . .normal?" he choked out, afraid of what the answer would be. She smiled at the same fear she had felt herself when the doctor had handed him to her for the first time.

"As far as I can tell. No extra strength, no allergy to the sun. No sharp pointy teeth. He's just a normal, healthy little boy." Spike nodded, relief pushing aside some of his panic. "He's very smart. I guess he got that from you." She said with a smile, remembering her none too successful school record. Spike sorted on response. "He was walking before he was a year. Talking in sentences by two. And he asks questions about everything. And he REALLY doesn't like it if you answer I don't know." She giggled a little, a sound so full of joy it made his undead heart squeeze.

"What's his name?"

"Matthew." Matthew, he repeated to himself, smiling. Pride pushed out the panic completely, and the first real smile Anne had ever seen on his face emerged. It took her breath away.

"I want to see him."

"I figured that. But, we have to take it slow. He's going to be confused, and I want to make it as easy as we can." Spike nodded, willing to let her have her way. "Why don't you come to dinner tomorrow night. . .shit, I have to work. But, I'm off Friday." She looked up hopefully, a frown marring her brow at the black look that clouded his face. "What?"

"You're not going back there."

"Right." She answered with a roll of her eyes. "I have bills to pay, Spike." He stood up and glared down at her.

"I have money. You're. Not. Going. Back. There." Each word was accentuated with a slight growl at the end. She stood herself, her face an inch from his.

"You can't tell me what to do." She said, her eyes glittering dangerously.

"The hell I can't. You're the mother of MY child, and you will not work in a glorified bordello."

"Oh. Really." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Need I remind you, soulless vampire." She said, poking a finger into his bare chest. "Not exactly the paragon of virtue."

"And I wouldn't object if you were a vampire. But you are a mother, and the Slayer. Your morals are supposed to be a touch on the higher side." He reminded her, sarcasm dripping from his voice, and stepping closer. They were practically touching now, anger snapping from their eyes.

"You might wanna remember that before you go telling me what I can and can't do." Another inch, and they would be standing in the same space. "Now, I am NOT discussing this any more. You are Matt's father, yes. You are NOT my keeper." Deciding to try another tactic, Spike backed off.

"Fine. I'll be over on Friday." He said, stepping away to go in search of another fag. An idea swirled in his head that would go a long way towards pissing her off, but it would get her out of that. . .place. Anne eyed him suspiciously, not sure if his acquiescence was a good thing.

"Good. I'll call you tomorrow with directions." She said, confused.

"Great."

"Fine. You can keep the picture." She said, turning towards the door.

"Oh, kitten." She paused, hand still on the doorknob, and turned towards him. The next thing she knew, she was slammed against the door, her body pinned between him and it. One of his hands was braced over her head on the door, the other was cupping her cheek. "Don't forget my goodbye kiss." She barely managed a squeak before his mouth descended on hers. Warmth collided with cool to cause them both to shiver. Anne felt her mind haze over as his tongue dove in between her parted lips, tasting and teasing, possessing. His hand skimmed over her, blazing a trail of fire through her clothes. "You are both mine," he growled in her ear when he pulled away. Anne was in too much of a trance to argue. It took her three tries to get the door open after he moved away. Her legs weren't in much condition to walk when she finally succeeded, but she knew on some instinctive level that she had better beat a hasty retreat. Now. It wasn't until she was halfway home that his words penetrated the fog in her head. She spent the rest of the ride home cursing the arrogant, self centered, EVIL vampire.

~*~*~

As soon as he heard her car leave, Spike walked to the phone and dialed information. Once he got the number that he needed, he dialed it quickly. Crushing out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, he waited for the line to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Ralph Henderson. Please." He added the last as an afterthought.

"Speaking." An evil smile spread across the blonde vampire's face as he explained to the man just who would be informed of the activities that went on in the Paradise room, if a certain brunette stripper didn't suddenly find herself out of work. With a smile, he hung up on the still sputtering man, satisfied that he had taken care of the situation.

 

**Chapter 6**

Mark walked out of the grocery store and pulled out a cigarette. The light breeze lifted the ends of his hair, making it dance around his sharp features. Taking a deep drag of smoke, he hefted the bag higher on his arm and turned, not seeing the small woman until he had knocked her down. Cigarette forgotten, he immediately reached out to steady her, and missed.

"Oh, shit. Are you alright?" He asked, putting his bag down and reaching out to help her to her feet. The tiny redhead looked up at him, a flustered smile on her face. Her pale skin was slightly flushed from the hot Arizona sun, and a light sheen of sweat had her T-shirt clinging to her body. He pulled her fluidly to her feet, and smiled down at her. "I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention." He said, staring into the greenest eyes he'd ever seen.

"No, that's okay. I was playing tourist girl and not watching where I was going." Willow looked up at the man, and found her self mesmerized by his smile. His dark eyes studied her upturned face, and his long, black hair was being teased by the warm breeze. She was amazed by how tall he was, the top of her head barely coming to his chest.

"Not from around here, then." She shook her head, and looked around nervously. "Well, my name is Mark Lynch, and may I be the first to welcome you to San Rios." He smiled that disarming smile again, and Willow placed her tiny hand into his much larger one.

"Willow Rosenberg. Thank you. It's hotter here, than I expected. A lot hotter than California." She said, glancing away again. God, he was hot, she thought. He held himself with confidence, and he had an almost predatory air about him. But in contrast, he smiled easily and his eyes were kind. Willow remembered that it had been a long time since Oz had left. She'd been single ever since. And this guy was making her remember just what it was like to want to be with someone.

"California, huh. Well, the big difference is, we don't have all that smog and pollution clogging up our skies." He said conversationally. He rocked back on the heels of his boots, fishing in his pocket for another cigarette. At the quirk of her brow at the smoldering tube, he grinned ruefully. "I meant from factories."

"Uh, huh. That's okay, I'm sure the cactus and the buzzards will forgive you." He chuckled, the sound sending a thrill down her spine.

"So, who do I thank for bringing you to our fair city?" He asked, forgetting he had told Anne he would meet her at her house for lunch.

"A friend." Willow answered, a bit hastily. One dark brow shot up, but he didn't press. Wasn't his business.

"Well, then you have to send your friend my appreciation." Willow couldn't believe he was flirting with her. And she was liking it. Just as she was about to say something, hopefully witty and cute, she heard her name being called. Sighing heavily and rolling her eyes, she turned to watch Xander come up to them at a slow trot. He eyed Mark suspiciously, and laid a possessive hand on her arm. Willow glared at him and tried to shrug him off inconspicuously.

"Will, I've been waiting for you." Xander said, tearing his eyes away from the tall Indian.

"I'm afraid that's my fault. Nearly ran the poor girl over." Mark interjected, instantly disliking the brunette man. Xander barely spared him a glance.

"I think I've got a lead, let's go." He said, then started to walk away, trying to pull her with him. Willow gave up on inconspicuous and finally yanked her hand out of his grasp.

"I'll be right there." She hissed, her eyes telling him to get lost. Xander shook his head and stalked to the truck parked by the curb a few feet away. Shooting another glare at him for good measure, she turned back to Mark, an apologetic look on her face. "I have to go." she said, with a hint of regret in her voice. Mark crushed the cigarette out before extending his hand again. She took it, and felt an electric shock jolt up her arm, leaving little tingles in its wake.

"It was nice to meet you, Ms. Rosenberg. I hope I'll get to see you again before you leave." His deep voice resonated over her, heating up her already burning skin. She smiled at him again, reluctantly pulling her hand from his.

"I'd like that." When he grinned, she felt herself struggling for breath.

"If that's the case, my band is playing at the bar over on Fifth tonight. If you would like to come."

"I'll definitely try to make it." She said, starting to back away. With another smile, she turned and joined Xander in the truck. What was it with her and musicians?, she thought as she buckled her seat belt. She sent him a final wave and a smile as Xander pulled out into traffic.

~*~*~

"You're late." Anne said as he walked inside, a huge grin on his face. She was sitting on the couch, painting her toenails. He dropped the bag on the table, and sank down next to her.

"Sorry, but I got held up by an angel." Anne rolled her eyes, but she smiled at the almost dreamy expression on his face.

"Uh, huh." She screwed the cap on her nail polish and leaned back on the cushions. Rubbing her tired eyes, she stretched.

"Tired?" He asked, filing the image of the pretty little redhead away for later perusal.

"Yeah." She said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"How'd it go?"

"A lot better than I expected. He wants to be a part of his life. Of course, he tried to tell me that I had to quit the Glamour Factory." Anne snorted at that. Mark laughed, thinking he would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that.

"Can't say I blame him, sweets."

"You do remember that you work there too?" She asked. Shifting her head to glare at him.

"Yeah, but it's not somewhere I would want my sister or my mother working, and especially not the mother of my child."

"You don't have a sister." Mark quirked a brow at her and pursed his lips. She had to giggle at him.

"You know what I mean. It's not the nicest of places, and it was one thing when you were washing dishes or waitressing. Dancing, and that other stuff, is a whole different sort of thing."

"I don't do that 'other stuff', Mark." She ground out, standing up and stalking into the kitchen.

"I know that. But you work at a place that allows it." He replied, following her.

"So do you." The refrigerator was closed with a slam.

"I'm a guy." he said with a shrug. Anne threw her hands up in the air, and gave a frustrated sigh.

"Ugh, of all the chauvinistic bullshit." She spat, opening the bottle of water with a sharp twist. He bit back the chuckle, not feeling the need to get his ass kicked before going to play that night. "You know, you two would probably get along great. Kick back on the couch with a couple of beers, cigarettes hanging from your mouths. Watch football or whatever and converse about your very Victorian attitudes. Of course he has the advantage of BEING from the Victorian age, but, I'm sure you could overcome that hurdle." she snapped. Laughter danced in his eyes as he looked at her.

"Sorry, Annie. That's just the way of the world." He walked over to her and tilted her chin up to look at him. "Maybe you ought to think about finding a new job." When she started to sputter indignantly, he cut her off. "NOT just because us Victorian-thinking men think you should, but also because you do have a young son to think about."

"I know that Mark. That's why I started dancing in the first place. Being the chosen one doesn't exactly guarantee job security." She glared up at him, her hazel eyes shooting sparks.

"Look, all I'm saying, is that if he's willing, let him foot the bill and go back to school. Find something that you really want to do, not just something that pays the bills." Anne sighed, feeling her anger seep out of her. He was right, she knew. She hated her job, wasn't overly thrilled with the hours, even though she used to slay much later into the night than she did dancing. Matt was going to school, and Spike was willing to pay for them, now would be the perfect time. But part of her didn't like the thought of sitting back and letting him take over. She had been doing it on her own so long, that she didn't know if she could adjust to sharing the burden. Seeing that she was beginning to agree, Mark decided to back off. "Just think about it, okay." Watching her nod, he smiled at the sullen look on her face. "Good. Now, I gotta go. Wish you could come tonight." He said as they walked to the door.

"Yeah, me too. But, you apparently have a new groupie in waiting. You won't even miss me." She told him with a chuckle. He reached up and cupped her face, a sad smile on his lips.

"Nah, that's not true. Nobody could replace you."

"Somebody will, and you deserve it." Anne returned his smile, and leaned up to brush a kiss across his mouth. "Now, go. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Well, I think that leaves my evening fairly open." He told her with a smirk, grabbing his bag and heading out the door before she could hit him.

"You jerk." she called after him, sticking her tongue out for effect.

His laughter was all he answered as he pulled out of her driveway with a wave.

~*~*~

Oh, she was so going to kill that vampire. They wouldn't have to worry about how Matt was going to react to meeting his father, because said father was going to be dust. Anne pressed the gas pedal just a little harder, ignoring the honks of the other drivers around her. *How dare he?* her mind screamed. Her fingers fisted on her steering wheel, the strength behind her grip leaving indentations of her digits on the heavy plastic. With a squeal of rubber, she tore into the Days Inn parking lot, coming to a screeching stop next to the DeSoto. Stomping out of the car, she stalked to the door and proceeded to pound on it.

"SPIKE! Open this fucking door right now you peroxided rat!" she yelled. She didn't notice the looks of the people walking into the office to check in, or the doors opening and people peering out to see the obviously crazy brunette trying to beat the door down. When it swung open, she stormed in, ripping it out of his hand and slamming it closed.

"Well, kitten. What brings. . .fuck!" he spat when her fist flew into his nose. Staggering back a step he recovered in time to block the next blow.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" She sent a kick to his midsection, cursing when he blocked her again. She was shaking with anger, and her churning emotions were causing her to be careless. When she took another swing, he caught her wrist, spinning her around to trap her against him and then knocked her feet out from under her, sending them both to the floor. They landed with an 'oomph', with him pinning her to the rough, beige carpet.

"Now, wanna tell me why we're playing kick the Spike?" He already knew, but he figured he'd play dumb for a bit.

"You know damn well why. YOU GOT ME FIRED, YOU ASSHOLE!" She yelled, struggling to get free.

"Tsk, pet. What sort of language is that to use?" He asked casually, savoring the squirming woman under him. When the evidence of his pleasure pressed intimately against her buttocks, Anne reared up and finally managed to toss him off of her. He landed on the floor a foot away, but they were soon both up and facing each other again.

"Don't try the innocent act on me, Spike. It's so not going to work. How could you do that? You can't just waltz back into my life and start taking over. It doesn't work like that." She took a step forward, arms crossed over her chest, eyes blazing.

"I told you, you weren't going back there." He growled in return.

"Fuck you. You're not my father, or my lover. You have no right. . ." He hauled her against him, his own blue orbs flashing gold.

"That's right, kitten. I'm not your father. But as to the second, I'm afraid you're sadly mistaken. I have been and I will be your lover until you die."

"God, stalker much?" She snapped back, ignoring the trill of excitement that coursed up her spine at his claim.

"Don't you get it, Buffy? I'm here. To stay. And I won't allow other men to touch you. Period. Do you know how crazy it made me that first night I saw you go into the back with that yuppie wanker? I could smell the sex from fifty feet away. It was all I could do not to go back there and kill that bastard. And you for doing it." Her eyes blazed at the implication he made.

"I've never. . .I'm not a whore. I haven't been with anybody since. . ." Anne stopped, looking away from him. He wouldn't let her drop it though.

"Since when, Buffy?" He growled, pulling her closer. She refused to meet his eyes. He shook her a bit, trying to force her to look up. "Since. When?"

"Since that day with you. Are you happy, now? Does that soothe your male ego?" She glared at him from under her lashes, her anger quickly being replaced by something else. He was pressed tightly against her, his mouth mere inches from hers. He searched her face, seeing the truth of her words.

"Neither have I." Her eyes widened at his admission in the second before his mouth descended on hers. Desire, fury, frustration, and something else poured from him and into her as his lips plundered hers. Heat suffused them both the second their lips touched. She kissed him back with everything she'd had locked up inside since that day in the mansion. His fingers tangled in the length of her hair, her fingers fisted in his. The kiss was passionate, and violent, as they each branded the other.

They were both panting heavily when they pulled apart, arms still entwined around the other.

"I want you, Buffy. For five damn years I've wanted you." He told her, brushing his lips over her cheek. She shivered with the intensity of his words, her own inner thoughts mirroring them. But, somewhere in the back of her mind, reasoning started to kick in, and she started to pull away. Reluctantly, he let her go, sensing her need to distance herself, physically, if not mentally.

"I want you too." She admitted once she was seated on the bed. When he took a step towards her, she held a hand up, stilling him. "But, that can't be all it's about. We have a child, Spike. We can't rule whatever this is between us with hormones. I won't have him hurt because we can't control our libidos." She said, running a hand through her hair.

"Tell me what you want from me, Buffy." He said, sitting on the other bed and grabbing his cigarettes off the nightstand. Once he lit it, his eyes returned to hers, their color close to black with his want for her.

"Stop looking at me like that for one, or we'll never make it out of this room."

"And that's a bad thing?" He teased, trying to pull in his raging lust. She just huffed in response.

"You can't come in and try to control me, Spike. I've been taking care of Matt and myself for a long time now. I don't appreciate you getting me fired." Her words carried an edge of anger and hurt, and he was suddenly sorry for his actions.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. I just couldn't stand the thought of you there, doing that."

"I told you I never did that..." she began, this time he held up his hand to stop her,

"I know that. Your 'employer' made it very clear that you didn't. You're better than that place." He finished, taking a deep drag from his cigarette.

"Yeah, well, for the record. I was considering taking you up on your offer, and maybe going back to school, or something." She told him with a half smile. "But, that doesn't excuse you for what you did." She sent him a glare, and was met with his disarming grin. Finding it infectious, she grinned back. "You better make sure you're ready for this, because I have a house payment, a car payment, AND utility bills that need paying. Not to mention little things like food, and clothes."

"Don't worry about it, kitten. I've got plenty of money." He said, crushing out his cigarette.

"Do I even want to know how?" When all he did was grin, she dropped her head into her hands and groaned.

"The crime was done long ago, before you were born. I'm just good with making it multiply." He said, wagging his eyebrows. She laughed, feeling the rest of her anger drain out of her.

"Do we have an agreement? No more trying to be all control freak?" He nodded, holding out his hand. With a laugh, she took at and they shook on it. When he tried to tug her to him, she resisted. "Oh no, lusty. That's not gonna happen."

"Why not? I thought we were all made up." He said with a pout. Anne's eyes widened at the unexpected look, and she found herself giggling again. He liked the sound, so different from that day, and he exaggerated the look even more to get her to do it again.

"We are all made up, you dork. But, we need to see if this real, and not just sex. We already know that we do that well."

"No bloody shit." He said, causing her to scrunch her nose up at him.

"However," she continued, ignoring him. "We need to see if we can do the rest well."

"Alright, luv. How do we start?" He linked his fingers loosely through hers, and gave her his full attention.

"A date." He blinked, not sure if he heard her right.

"A what?"

"A date. You know, you take me somewhere, pay for everything then drop me off at home with a chaste kiss at the door." She said the last part with a gleam in her eye. He grumbled under his breath at that. She smiled at his scowl. "Hey, I've got an idea. Since my sitter's already paid up for the night, my friend Mark is playing at the club over on Fifth. Wanna go? I'd love for you to meet him." Biting back the jealousy that surged forward at the mention of her friend's name, he gave her a tight smile.

"Sure." Then he gave her a horrified look. "He doesn't play that 'my women done left and my dog died crap', does he?" He said in a mock southern accent. Anne raised an eyebrow, offering him a coy smile.

"Some." At his groan, she chuckled, standing and pulling him to his feet. "Come on, fang face. Let's get you decent so you can take me out. I'm hungry, so you can feed me too." She turned towards his bag and started rummaging through.

"Hey, what are you about?" he asked, trying to stop her.

"Trying to see if you have anything with color in here." She said with a scowl. Buried underneath the mountains of black t-shirts and jeans she found a dark blue button down. "Well, this will have to do." She muttered, throwing it at him. He caught it, and sneered at her. She yanked out a pair of clean jeans and socks, noticing with some interest that there wasn't a pair of boxers or briefs in the entire bag. Of course, they had undressed so quickly that day, she couldn't remember if he had on any then. "Here, go get dressed. I have to call Molly and let her know that I'm not at work." Looking down at the clothes in his hand, he growled softly and stormed into the bathroom. With a smile at his bare back, she picked up the phone and dialed.

~*~*~

Two doors down, another argument was starting, just as Anne and Spike's was finishing.

"Dammit, Will. We're here to find Buffy, NOT pick up long haired musicians." Xander exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. Willow's mouth formed into a hard line as she sat on the bed. "I don't see why you can't do the spell again. I so don't believe that she would be working as a STRIPPER." The word was said with such disdain that she cringed. Xander had apparently spoken to the clerk at the small drugstore in town, who had told him that a girl fitting Buffy's description worked at the strip club off of 10. He had promptly dismissed it.

"I told you, Xander. You're lucky that it got us this far. She obviously hadn't used that brush in years. The hair was old. And what does it matter if I try to have a little fun while we're here? He was nice."

"Uh, huh. Don't you remember what happened with Oz?" He said, glaring at her. Her eyes went wide at that, anger making her green orbs flash black. Struggling to calm down so she didn't do something irrational, like turn him into a toad, she stood.

"Of course I remember what happened. But that doesn't mean that's going to happen again. And you need to chill out. In case YOU forgot, this little obsession with Buffy is what made Cordy break up with you." She snapped. He grimaced at the reminder, but he didn't back down.

"It's not an obsession. I'm just trying to make sure she's okay. She needs her friends." Willow was just short of having enough. With a wave of her hand, and a quite word slipping from her lips, Xander was asleep. With a sigh, she levitated him to the bed. She then went over to him and grabbed his keys. She really hated using magic for selfish means, but he was seriously starting to pluck her last nerve. She loved him, she really did. But he could be the most single minded person she knew. She really needed to get away from him for awhile.

With a sigh, she took the map off the table, then walked out into the night.

Chapter 7

Willow walked into the bar, the smell of smoke, food and bodies hitting her. It was altogether not an unpleasant smell, and she found herself smiling at the differences in people there. People in cowboy hats and boots sat with people in business suits. A few punk looking types were laughing with some good ole boys at the dart boards. Waitresses wove through the tables with smiles and words for everyone. Willow suddenly knew why Buffy had chosen this place to live. These people were NICE. And not in that scary Stepford kind of way. Shuffling through the restaurant part of the bar, she followed the sound of loud music and worked her way through the throngs of people to the stage area. The band was just setting up, and the jukebox was apparently getting everybody ready for the high decibels to come.

Seeing Mark kneeling on the stage, tuning his guitar, she threaded her way through the crowd to him. Once she reached him, she tapped him on the shoulder, offering him a shy smile when he turned around. The grin that split his face made her breath catch in her throat, and fluttering start in her stomach.

"You made it." He called over the din. She nodded, nervously twisting her fingers in front of her, her bright hair bouncing around her shoulders. Taking the guitar off, he set it aside and jumped off the stage. "Where's your friend from earlier?" He asked, taking her by her elbow and leading her to a table.

"He sacked out." She told him, hoping her blush wasn't noticeable in the dark club. The feel of his hand on her elbow caused her heart to speed up in a pleasant way.

"Too bad." Mark said in such a way that let Willow know that he didn't really think so. "Want something to drink?"

"Uhm, yeah. Just a coke though, I drove here." She told him.

"Beautiful and conscientious, I knew I liked you." Willow blushed again, and he flashed her a wicked grin before moving to the bar. When he came back, he set the drink down in front of her, then waved to his bandmates on the stage. "We're getting ready to start. Will you stick around til the end of the show?" She nodded, smiling again. He brushed a hand over her hair and moved away, jumping gracefully back onto the stage. She watched as he picked his guitar back up and plugged it in, before turning towards the crowd. His eyes sought her out, and he smiled hugely. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear when some of the people near the stage turned and looked at her. Their attention went back to the stage when Mark started to speak.

"How's everybody doin' tonight?" He waited for the loud roar of whoops and whistles to stop before he spoke again. "I figured I'd start off a little different tonight. We have a special guest from out of town, and I would like to play this for her." All eyes turned to Willow again, and she was grateful for the darkness once again when she felt her face blaze. When the first few haunting chords of Hotel California filled the air, Willow forgot all about the people and just lost herself in sound of his voice.

~*~*~

Anne and Spike walked in just as Mark started the second verse. Spike felt himself relax a bit when he recognized the Eagles. *Least I won't have to pretend to like that twangy shit* he thought to himself as Anne pulled him into the room. It was packed, and there was no chance of getting close to the stage. Spike saw the bouncer from two nights before, and his look of recognition was now understandable. He was Buffy's friend, and knew that Matt was Spike's.

"They're good." He said, with no little amazement. What they were doing here was a mystery.

"Yeah. They play here most Thursdays, since Mark works on the weekends. I rarely get to see him play anymore." Anne told him, allowing him to draw her into his embrace, and leaned back against his chest. His arms banded around her waist, and he rested his chin on her head, gently swaying to the music. When the song was over, they launched immediately into Tears of Jupiter, and Spike found himself thanking the God that had forsaken him that Anne had apparently been teasing him.

Between songs, the crowd hooted and howled, stomping and clapping while Mark and the rest of the band drank it in. He was an amazing player, Spike soon realized, when he burst into a guitar solo that rivaled any the blonde had heard before. Women crowded the front of the stage, their faces dreamy with the hopes that he might notice them, but Anne knew none of them would get lucky. She watched as his gaze was continually drawn to the side of the stage, whoever was there was hidden by the crowd. She smiled, happy that he had met somebody that held his attention so raptly.

"You guys have been great." Mark crooned into the microphone an hour and a half later. Wiping his arm across his forehead, he grinned again. "We're going to go out on a soft note tonight, so, all you couples grab your honeys and get to swaying." This elicited a chuckle from the crowd, as several people began to do just that. When the first few notes of Arms Wide Open sounded form the speakers, Spike turned Anne in his arms and pulled her against him. She searched his eyes, a slight frown marring her brow.

"Dance with me." He said, placing one of her hands on his shoulder, and tucking the other into his and holding her against his chest. With a sigh, she turned herself over to him, and got lost in the blue fire of his eyes, and the feel of his hand pressed against her back. Time stood still as the world seem to come down to just the two of them. Mark's deep, soulful voice washed over them as he sang about a man finding out he was about to be a father.

Mark watched them from his position on the stage, a bittersweet feeling running through him. They seemed so in tune with each other, so right. They danced like they were the only two people in the room, and the guitar player felt himself smiling. His brown eyes drifted away from the dancing couple, over to Willow. He may have been wrong about there not being another woman like Annie in the world, and he may have just been lucky enough to find her.

Spike slid his hands down her arms as the song came to a close, linking his fingers through hers. He lowered his head, just as she raised hers to brush their lips softly together. Gently they caressed each other's mouths, tasting and teasing, not rushed or brutal. Everything they felt, but were still too afraid to say, was spoken in that kiss. When they pulled away, and stared deeply into each other's eyes, it was as if the answers to the universe could be found there.

Anne was the first to recover, and she smiled, releasing one of his hands to tug him behind her .

"Come on, I want you to meet Mark." He followed her through the crowd, his eyes drinking in the smooth line of her back, the silken curves of her legs. She seemed to wear shorts all the time, and he, for one, was glad. Neither noticed the appreciative glances of the men, or the enthralled faces of the woman as they passed. Mark was standing in the corner of the room, speaking to somebody Anne couldn't see, and acknowledging the people he knew. She walked up to him, and tapped him on the back.

"Hey, I thought you had to work." He said, turning to face them. She stepped into his hug, smiling against his chest.

"Tell you about it later. Mark, I would like you to meet Spike." She waved her hands between the two, looking expectantly at them. Mark took a deep breath and pulled himself to his full height, finally sticking a hand out.

"We met the other night." He said, reminding the blonde.

"Yeah, I know." Spike said, taking his hand. They both briefly considered the very childish idea of squeezing just a bit too hard, but one look at the glittering hazel eyes of the woman next to them dispelled it.

"Oh, hey, I've got somebody I want you to meet, too." He turned to the person still behind him, pulling her to his side. "Anne, this is. . ."

"Willow." Anne's shocked voice cut Mark off. He looked down at the redhead beside him, then back up at his friend. She had gone pale and was clutching at Spike's hand as if it were a lifeline. Spike was frowning at Willow, and she looked shell-shocked.

"Buffy?" Mark realized with a sudden clarity that this girl wasn't just from California, she was from Sunnydale.

"Never mind. You two seem to already know each other." He bit out, his mind finally conjuring up the memory of the picture beside Anne's bed. This girl was older, her hair shorter and a little lighter, but it was definitely her.

The two women stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Spike was getting ready to say something, just to break the tension, when, as if a spell had broken, they were suddenly in a fierce hug, tears pouring down both of their faces.

"Oh God, Buffy. I missed you."

"I missed you, too Will. I'm so sorry." Anne gasped, clutching Willow like she might disappear. Mark and Spike stood by awkwardly, both uncomfortable with the emotion flowing between the two woman. When they pulled apart, they each raised a hand to the other's hair.

"Your hair's brown."

"And your's is shorter." They both giggled at the inane observations. Then, Anne seemed to remember the men. "Oh, Mark, this is my best friend from Sunnydale. You've heard me talk about her. I can't believe this is the girl you met today." Willow looked up at Mark, her smile fading at the angry gleam in his eye. Her eyes widened when she realized what he must be thinking.

"Oh, Mark. No, I swear, I didn't know who you were." She gasped. His brow quirked and he reached for his cigarettes. Spike decided that seemed like a damn good idea, and reached for his own. He felt bad for the bloke, not honestly thinking that Willow was lying, but understanding how it might look to Mark. He felt the need to show some solidarity with the other man, and decided that creating a batch of secondhand smoke for them to breathe would do just fine. Anne looked between the two, her own mind putting the pieces together.

"Mark, if she says she didn't know. She didn't know." Anne told him firmly.

"Fine. I'll just go get my stuff, let you guys catch up." Willow watched helplessly as he stormed away. Anne looked at Spike, her eyes asking him to stay with Willow. He nodded and let her hand go so she could go after the tall brunette.

"So, where's the whelp?" He asked, casually smoking his cigarette. Willow pulled her eyes from Mark's retreating back, and looked at the vampire.

"Back at the hotel," she mumbled. Spike's eyes sharpened at that.

"He's here?" He growled. She flinched at his tone.

"Yes."

"I thought you didn't know where she was." His tone was accusatory.

"We didn't. . .look, it's a long story. Could it wait until Buffy gets back? I only want to tell it once."

"Fine." He snapped, dropping his cigarette to the floor and grinding it out. "Want a drink?" Willow waited a beat.

"Hell yes."

"Right then. Come on."

~*~*~

"Mark." Anne walked up behind him, watching him as he pulled the cord from his amp with jerky movements.

"What?" The word was clipped, his usual good humor stripped.

"She's not deceitful." She began, only to shrink back from the angry blaze in his eyes.

"That's good. Why don't you go talk? Sure she has some interesting things to say." He said, shoving the cord into his bag.

"Mark. Don't be an ass. If she came here tonight, it was because she liked you. Not because of some covert reason." She snapped, glaring at him. When he dropped his hands to his sides, his head hanging so his hair was covering his face, she sighed. "Come on back. Get to know her, you'll see." She tugged on his hand, willing him to look at her. When he finally did, she saw that the anger was gone. In it's place was a touch of wariness. "Come on." With a sigh, he flashed her a smile.

"Alright. You go, take them to the restaurant side. I'll meet you over there."

"Promise?" Her voice held a note of mock threat, her eyebrow quirked up as she waited for him to answer. He snorted, and shook his head.

"Promise. Now go. I've got to clean up."

"Okay." She smiled brightly, then turned to find her vampire and her best friend. She found them a few minutes later, leaning against the bar commiserating over booze. Actually, it was a beer for Spike, and one of those fruity drinks that Mark always turned his nose up at for Willow. "Ooh, I want one of those. Then let's go over to the other side, it's quieter. Mark said he'll meet us there." Anne said the last part directly to Willow, pleased when the smile returned to her friend's face. She didn't know what had happened to Oz, but it was obvious he was out of the picture. Once Anne had her drink, she took Spike's hand, much to Willow's surprise, and led them to the restaurant. When they were seated, she flagged a waitress down and ordered, then indicated that Willow and Spike should as well. Granted, she didn't actually think Spike would order anything, with the whole need for blood situation.

"You got those blooming onion things?" He asked the pretty blonde, sending her a disarming smile. She nodded mutely, her speaking ability seemingly stilted. She stared at him openly, causing Anne to clear her throat angrily.

"What? Oh, yeah. I'll just go put this in." She then beat a hasty retreat, not caring for the hostility from the woman at the table.

"Ow," Spike whined, when Anne punched his arm. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Eyeballing the waitress." She growled, in a fairly decent imitation of his own fierce rumble. The scarred eyebrow shot up, and he leaned in to brush his mouth over hers.

"Never, kitten." Her eyes drifted shut for a second, and she savored the cool feel of his lips against hers. Willow watched in amazement at the two across from her. Spike seemed almost lighthearted, a stark contrast to the vampire that had thrown Xander around the month before. And Anne seemed, happy. Being away from Sunnydale had done her a world of good. The witch felt a surge of guilt threaten to choke her.

"So, Will. How did you find me?" Anne asked, as Mark came over to the table. He slid into the booth next to Willow, smiling at her. She smiled back, thankful he wasn't angry anymore. After he had ordered, Willow took a deep breath and started her tale of how she came to be in San Rios.

~*~*~

"So, you beat up Xander?" Anne asked, nibbling on a piece of deep fried onion.

"Yeah." Spike said with a smirk. They were all taking bites of the flowering onion, and listening to Willow.

"Good." She replied, turning back to the redhead. Willow felt a stab of disloyalty when she snickered, but dammit, he had pissed her off.

"Was that the guy that came up to you today?" Mark asked, finding her blushing face stunning.

"Yeah." She looked down at her hands, twisting the ring on her finger.

"He's here?" Anne asked, incredulous. Her eyes darted around the room, as if searching him out. Spike watched her reaction with interest, making a mental note to find out just what the boy had done.

"Yeah, here, as in San Rios. I kinda make him go to sleep so I could come tonight." Spike snorted, and Anne giggled through her ire. Mark looked her gape mouthed.

"You put him to sleep?" Willow felt a touch of pride swell in her breast.

"She's a witch." Anne supplied, picking up her drink. Interest filled Mark's face at that.

"Really?" The redhead nodded, wondering if there was a record for the most blushes in an hour. "You'll have to tell me about that." she smiled, and nodded. Anne rested her head on Spike's shoulder, thinking *Awwww*. Her two best friends seemed to be hitting it off. Spike looked down at her, and smiled. He liked the easy comfort she had with him, and he wondered why he had ever left her.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to come here and intrude on your life. It's just, Xander can be very convincing when he wants to be." Anne reached across the table and took Willow's hand.

"I'm glad you came, Will. I didn't realize how much I missed you until I saw you." Their fingers linked, and the men suddenly felt out of sorts again, each reaching for their cigarettes.

"You know, your mom really wants to see you. And Matt." Three sets of eyes snapped to the redhead, making her feel like a bug under a microscope.

"How did you know?" Anne gasped. Willow's green eyes met hers, sadness filling them.

"I went over to your mother's one day to return one of Giles' books. He wasn't there yet, and the door was open, so, I went in. I found her sitting on the couch, crying. She had a picture, I guess you sent it to her. It was of you and Matt. She said he was your son. One look, and I knew who his father was." Her eyes dropped to the table, as an uncomfortable silence descended over them.

"Do you have a problem with it?" Anne asked, her voice tight. Spike tensed next to her, waiting for the witch's answer.

"Oh, Goddess no, Buffy! Why should I if you don't?" Willow was quick to say. "He's beautiful."

"Thank you." Anne replied. Spike blew out a plume of smoke, a surge of pride spreading through him. Matt was beautiful, as was his mother. And they were both his.

"Think it's about time to go, kitten." He said, when she yawned wide. Anne nodded.

"Yeah. How long are you going to be in town? I want to talk, find out about stuff." Her eyes drifted to Mark, in silent indication of what she meant.

"I don't know. A while, I guess." Her own eyes drifted to Mark, then quickly back to Anne. "He's going to want to see you," Willow said. Anne sighed, rubbing her tired eyes.

"I don't know, Will. I don't know if I can deal with him. Look, just tell him to give me a couple of days. Really important things are going on right now, and he's just going to have to wait his turn." Willow nodded, taking the napkin that Anne held out to her with her number. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Alright." They all filed out of the booth, each reaching for their wallets to pay the check.

"I got it." Spike said, throwing the money on the table. The girls hugged, and the men shared nonchalant looks.

"Bye, guys." Anne said with a wave, pulling Spike out with her.

"Bye, Buffy, Spike."

"Later, Red. Tonto." Mark's eyes widened and he moved to go after him. Willow hazarded a hand on his arm.

"Don't, he just seems to need a nickname for everybody. He calls Xander whelp and puff boy." Mark didn't look very convinced, and even less happy, but, he didn't continue after the couple.

"Can I walk you to your car, m'lady?" he said with a rakish grin, and a grand sweep of his arm. She giggled, and preceded him out into the night.

The walk to Xander's old, beat up truck was done in a comfortable silence. When they reached it, he placed a hand on the door, and smiled down at her.

"So, you put him to sleep and stole his truck?" She nodded, a guilty look on her face. Her heart tripped in her chest when he rubbed his thumb across her cheek. "Remind me to never piss you off." She laughed, the sound more nervous, than mirthful. His dark eyes seemed to burn into hers, and the air swirled with electricity. "I'm going to kiss you now." He warned, his soft voice flowing over her.

"Okay." She whispered, her eyes drifting shut at the first, gentle brush of his mouth across hers.

There's something about the first time you kiss somebody. The taste, the texture, the newness of the sensation. The way it makes your stomach flutter, and your heart skip beats. Willow lost herself in the feeling of his lips exploring hers. His mouth was soft, and warm, the taste of the beer he'd had still lingering. When his tongue darted out to tease her slightly parted lips, she responded, sighing when he slipped inside. He throughly explored the sweet cavern of her mouth, before engaging her tongue in a sensual battle. He tasted like cigarettes and beer, and something earthy and wild. She tasted like strawberries, and rum, with the undertone of something purely feminine. He felt like he could drown in her, and die happy.

When he pulled away, he smiled at her desire filled, emerald eyes.

"I want to see you again." He whispered, his voice husky.

"Me too."

"I'll pick you up for lunch tomorrow?" She nodded mutely, looking into his near black eyes. He leaned in to kiss her again, this time with a little more urgency. She met him with her own, her fingers curling around his wrist. Reluctantly, he pulled away, and opened the door for her. After she climbed in, he shut it, and leaned a arm on the open window. "Where are you staying?"

"The Days Inn. Room 16." Alarm broke through her hazy senses. "Oh, shit, I forgot to tell them that we're in the same hotel Spike is." She slapped a hand against her forehead, cursing her stupidity.

"Uh, oh." Mark said, wondering if he needed go home and get his gun.

"It should be okay tonight. He'll sleep until tomorrow. I just have to remember to call her in the morning so she can warn Spike. Not like he can't take care of himself, but Xander can be irrational sometimes." *Stupid, stupid, stupid* she chanted to herself.

"Well, I'll call her, too, just in case." He told her, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow." She said, not really wanting to leave, but feeling like she should get back to make sure he did, indeed, stay asleep.

"Definitely." He stepped back so she could pull out, watching until the truck was out of sight. Whistling softly to himself, he turned to go back into the bar to get his stuff.

~*~*~

Spike put the car into park, and drew Anne into his arms. She went willingly, inhaling deep his scent.

"It's nice, seeing them together." She said, her voice tired.

"Yeah, I suppose." Spike replied. Anne snorted against his chest, leaning up to look at him.

"You suppose? You're such a romantic Spike." she teased. He hauled her against his chest, teasing her jawline with his mouth. Anne trembled with the sensation, relishing the heat his touch induced.

"I'll show you how much of a romantic I am." He whispered in her ear. His hands ran restlessly over her back, sliding under the t-shirt she was wearing. The promise in his voice made the ache intensify between her thighs, and she felt herself dampen considerably.

"I told you, no sex. Not yet." She gasped when his wandering fingers found the swell of her breast, and she suddenly forgot what she was protesting.

"Not going to have sex," he purred, his other hand deftly sliding inside her shorts. He silently thanked the gods for whoever invented elastic.

"Oh, God." She moaned when his cool fingers parted her folds and slipped inside. Two fingers delved into her tight heat, as his thumb circled the tiny bundle of nerves at the top. Her hips gyrated against his hand, her head lolling to the side to give his mouth more access to her throat.

"That's it, Buffy." He whispered, quickening his hand's movements to match hers. Her fingers clutched tightly at his shoulders, and her breath came in husky gasps. His lips latched over his mark on her neck, sucking hard. With a shriek of his name, she jetted over the edge, her juices flowing over his hand, her inner muscles clamping tight over his thrusting fingers. His other arm snaked around her waist as she rode out the orgasm, tremors shaking her to her core. Spike felt like he was going to bust, but he didn't move to try to take things further.

She collapsed in a heap against him, and Spike pulled his hand out of her pants. She turned to look at him, watching in erotic fascination as he licked his fingers clean.

"Delicious." he purred, leaning in to kiss her. The taste of herself on his tongue had her seriously reconsidering this whole waiting idea. "Think you'd better go on home now, kitten. I'll see you tomorrow." With a grimace, Anne moved to climb off of him. They got out of the car together, and he walked with her around to the driver's side.

"Know of any good butcher shops that'll sell a man a spot of blood?" He asked her, holding her door open for her. Her eyes widened when she realized the implications behind his words. Yeah, he had told her that he had stopped being the Big Bad, but she hadn't thought he had stopped feeding on humans. The thought that he had made her heart swell.

"There's one off of Maple," she told him, pulling him down to her for another scorching kiss. When they pulled apart, it was all he could do not to throw her over his shoulder and drag her back into the hotel room for some proper reacquainting. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Nothing could keep me away from what's mine." She smiled hugely at him, before reluctantly pulling her door closed.

"Goodnight, Spike."

"Goodnight, kitten." Then, she pulled out of the parking spot, and drove off into the night. Smiling to himself, and savoring the taste of her in his mouth, and the smell of her on his skin, he turned and went inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 8**

Anne woke up Friday morning before Matt, and that never happened. Excitement and apprehension were warring for dominance over her stomach. Tonight was it. Tonight, Spike and Matt would meet, and life would never be the same. Not that it had been the same since he showed up at the Glamour Factory just two short days ago, but this seemed more permanent. She worried whether or not she should tell Matt that Spike was his father right away, or wait and see how they reacted to each other.

Groaning at the non-stop turning of her brain, she flopped onto her back, resting an arm across her forehead. Her need to protect Matt and her want for him to know his father were at odds. Not to mention her own confused feelings towards the vampire. He'd shown a different side of himself the night before, relaxed and teasing. He smiled more last night than she thought possible. He seemed as normal as Mark, and nothing like the monster with a reputation of over a century of blood, death and destruction.

Sighing, Anne gave up on sleep and slipped out of bed. Padding quietly down the hall, she looked in on Matt, smiling at the sight of his tiny frame bathed in the light of the sun from his window. Closing the door, she went to the kitchen, the coffee pot her first stop. Once that was started, she turned to the refrigerator, to pull out eggs and cantaloupe. Cooking always soothed her, helped her think, so Matt would get a big breakfast this morning.

Putting the eggs on the counter, she went to get the cutting board and knife. Slicing into the thick skin of the fruit, her thoughts turned to Spike once more. Her reaction to him physically and her feelings towards him were in a jumbled mess. She knew she wanted him, but that was the only thing that she knew for sure. She cared about him, but what if that was just an extension of her love for her son? However, when he touched her, looked at her, she felt like she was the only woman on the planet. And she liked it. A lot. She felt a pang of arousal shoot through her at the memory of how they parted the night before. God, he COULD make her burn.

Moving on auto, she scooped seeds out the cantaloupe, then put it aside to get her first cup of coffee. Anne sighed again, savoring the warm brew, before going back to her task. Then of course, there was the problem of Spike's vampiric state. At least the daylight issue. He would never be able to see his child in the sun. He would never be able to attend baseball games, or soccer games, never be able to go to barbecues. In all, not as important as him just BEING there, but it was still a large part of life. She was afraid of how it would make Spike feel, not being able to do those things with his son. Then, a though struck her. Maybe Willow could help.

The thought of her friend brought on a whole other set of fears, but she slammed the door on them. *One thing at a time, Annie,* she told herself, placing the sliced fruit onto a plate. She then plucked three eggs out of the carton and broke them into a bowl. Getting the milk from the fridge, she whipped it with the eggs. Next came cinnamon, a touch of sugar, and some nutmeg. Starting a pan to heat on the stove, she grabbed the bread and started to make french toast.

By the time she was putting the last piece on the platter, Matt walked into the kitchen, Scooby clutched firmly beneath his tiny arm.

"Mornin' Mommy," he mumbled, holding his free arm up. Smiling, she turned off the stove, and scooped him up into her arms.

"Good morning, baby. Sleep well?" He nodded, his nose picking up the scent of something sweet.

"Ooh, fresh toas'." He cried, hugging her tight around the neck, and spotting the fruit, "And cantlope." He squirmed to get down, eager to get to the food. Chuckling, she dropped him to the floor so he could scramble up into his chair. Piling two slices on the plate, she slathered them with butter, then topped it with syrup. Then, she put a slice of cantaloupe on the side and took it to the table. He dug in while she poured him some milk, and got herself another cup of coffee.

"Fanks," he said around the mouthful of food, as she sat the glass in front of him, then sat down.

"You're welcome. And don't talk with your mouth full." He scrunched up his nose, but nodded. Swallowing, he spoke again.

"Whassa matta, Mommy?" She blinked, not realizing her inner turmoil was evident on her face.

"Nothing, honey." She denied, then took a sip of coffee. "Guess what."

"What?" Big, blue eyes met hers, the pure innocence in them making her heart clench. She suddenly found herself wondering whether or not anyone had ever made William french toast and sat with him while he ate it.

"We're having a guest for dinner." She pulled back from the thoughts, and made sure her voice was cheery.

"Unca Mark?" Anne smiled.

"Nope. This is a new somebody. He's a friend of mine from when I lived in California." She somewhat lied.

"With Gramma?" He asked, shoving another bite in his mouth. She reached out with a napkin and wiped the syrup off his chin, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

"Yeah, with Gramma." The image of her mother swam through her mind. It was about time to call her again, and maybe this time they could work out a visit. Matt happily munched on his breakfast, oblivious to his mother's troubles. Maybe she was worrying too much, she thought, watching him eat. Her son was a happy child. Easy and outgoing, inquisitive and smart. Things would go well, they just had to.

Finishing her coffee, she sent him off to get ready for school. Then, she cleaned up the kitchen and went to get dressed, mentally counting the hours until dinner.

~*~*~

"I can't believe you did that to me, Willow." Xander said, glaring at her over his coffee cup. They were sitting in the diner across from the hotel, eating breakfast.

"I said I was sorry." She grumbled around a bite of eggs. He had been bitching since she knocked on his door, offering to buy breakfast to make peace. He just wouldn't let it go.

"Just to go see some hick band in some dive bar. Has it been that long since you've had a man?" His words were dripping with sarcasm. She looked up sharply, not caring for what he was implying.

"You would know." She shot back, ignoring the pang of shame that shot through her. His eyes narrowed at her allusion to their one and only time together. It had been right after Oz and Cordy left, and they had gotten drunk, crying about their exes. One thing led to another, and, well, Willow had never been able to look at him in the same way since.

"Well, if sex is all it's about, let's go. No need to go looking when it's right here." He sneered, angry and a little hurt. He'd thought their time was special. Not something that would ever happen again, but special.

"So not going there, Xander. And it wasn't about sex. I didn't do anything with him. NOT that it's any of your business." She spat, pushing her plate away. She'd suddenly lost her appetite. "I'm going out with him today." Xander's eyes widened.

"What?! But we still have to look for Buffy." He protested, truly shocked that she had forgotten their mission. Willow sighed, and dug through her purse for Tylenol. She had struggled all night about whether or not to give him Buffy's message. That and sweaty, naked dreams about a certain Native American guitar player, but mostly about Buffy. Right. Xander was not one to back down once he got an idea in his head. Downing the pills, she took a deep breath.

"I saw her last night."

"WHAT!!" His cup came down hard on the table, sloshing its contents over the rim.

"Shhh." She hissed when the other patrons turned to look curiously at them. She grabbed a handful of napkins to help him sop up the mess.

"Why didn't you come get me?" He accused, his eyes heated.

"One, what would you have done besides freak out on her? Two, I didn't know that she knew Mark. Three," deeper breath, "Spike was there." Every muscle in Xander's body stilled, save the one jumping in his cheek. Anger and hatred filled his dark orbs, causing her to shrink back from their intensity.

"That. Bastard." He ground out. "I knew he knew where she was. Did she dust him?"

"No." Her brows drew together and her nose scrunched up. "It actually looked like they were on a date." Willow leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, a nasty smile curving her lips at his horrified sputtering.

"Date? With Spike? Are you sure? Cause, remember, he's evil and soulless. Why would she be on a date with him?"

"He didn't seem evil and soulless last night. In fact, he seemed pretty much a regular guy. No fangs, no grr. In fact, he didn't insult any of us once. And there was no talking of killing at all." She told him, watching disbelief cloud his eyes.

"So, you sat down and had a heart to heart with Captain Peroxide?"

"No. We were all sitting at the table together."

"So, you're telling me, that since the last time we saw him, Spike has, what? Changed? I don't buy it. It's probably just some big plan to get close to her and kill her and the kid." Willow's eyes widened, but Xander didn't notice. He was too caught up in verbalizing his inner feelings. "Yeah, that's it. I told her that she should get rid of it. Then she wouldn't have any of these. . .NICE feelings towards him."

"Xander." Willow finally found her voice, her hand snaking across the table to grab his wrist.

"What?"

"How do you know about her son?" She watched him pale as he realized his mistake. He dropped his eyes to the table, suddenly very interested in cleaning up the coffee spill. "XANDER!" Her voice rose an octave, and this time it was he that was worried about people staring.

"What? Well, maybe I saw her in L. A." He said, averting his eyes.

"Maybe?!" she hissed, her eyes blazing. "What. Did. You. Do?"

"Nothing." Xander replied, still not looking at her. Willow threw her napkin on the table and stood, feeling the need to get out of his presence before she hurt him. Badly.

"She told me to tell you to wait a couple of days. She has things going on in her life, and she can't deal with you right now. And frankly, neither can I." She then turned on her heel and left. Xander watched her leave, anger and resentment flaring in his eyes.

~*~*~

Anne pulled the grocery bags out of her car, slamming the trunk and walking to her door. She had exactly one hour until she had to get Matt from school, and she still had to clean. Granted, she had just cleaned two days before, but she was nervous.

Letting herself in, she went into the kitchen to put the steaks into the fridge. She had pondered a long time on what to feed a vampire. Angel never ate human food, and until the night before she hadn't known that Spike did. At least with steaks, she could leave his bloody and cook hers and Matt's to a more consumable degree.

As soon as she was done putting the food away, she ran around the house, making sure everything was just right. She even did a sweep of Matt's room, even though, for a four year old, he was neat. When she was done, she still had fifteen minutes to spare. Pushing her hair out of her face, she grabbed her purse and left again.

~*~*~

Spike paced restlessly around his room, working on his second pack of cigarettes. He couldn't remember ever being this nervous about anything in his life or unlife. How do you go about meeting your four year old son for the first time? What do you say? How do you act? What if the kid hated him?

Growling at all the thoughts swirling around in his head, he lit another cigarette off the burning end of the last. He'd tried and tossed out many opening lines. Finally, he decided to keep it casual, follow Buffy's lead.

He, the Big Bad, was scared shitless. The two most important things in his world were counting on him, and he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to measure up. He was a VAMPIRE for pity's sake. He was never supposed to be a father. Never supposed to fall in love the Slayer. As that thought penetrated his panicked brain, he stopped dead, turning it over.

"When the fuck did that happen?" He asked the air. He waited for the panic to set in again, but it never did. Something about admitting this to himself calmed him. A slow smile began to spread across his face, and a lightness he never felt before bloomed in his chest. He was in love with the mother of his child. Put like that, it was natural. Now, in love a Slayer, was a totally different thing. But, it still felt natural.

Crushing his cigarette out, he climbed into bed, his view of the night to come drastically improved.

~*~*~

"Hi, Willow." Mark said, when she opened the door. She returned his huge grin with a tight smile and moved to let him in. "What's the matter?" He asked at the look on her face. She turned around, anger still evident on her face.

"Xander. He's just so. . .ugh. . .grr. . . and uuhh." She spat, her face flushed with anger, a scowl marring her pretty features. Mark walked over to her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. She felt herself relax almost immediately, and her smile was a bit brighter this time.

"What did he do?" His thumbs traced lightly over her collar bone, leaving pleasant tingles in their wake.

"He let it slip today, that he saw Buffy in L.A. while she was pregnant." She saw the flash of temper in his eyes. "You knew already?" He nodded, sighing.

"Yeah, Anne told me."

"Anne? Who's. . .Oh, Buffy. I didn't realize she was going by her middle name." Willow said. Mark shrugged a shoulder.

"I guess. That's all I've ever known her as."

"Do you know what happened? I got so mad at him that I walked out. If I know Xander, whatever he said to her was a large part of why she didn't come back." Willow's green eyes searched his face, and saw his reluctance to answer. His loyalty to Buffy made her heart ache.

"It's not my story to tell." He answered finally, sliding one of his hands down her arm to rest lightly on her waist. "I will say, that some of it was intense. You should ask Anne." She nodded in understanding.

"I tried to call her, but she wasn't home." Willow found herself leaning towards him, the feel of his rough hand on her skin sending shocks to all the right places. She was wearing a dark red blouse that exposed the curve of her shoulders, the smooth line of her neck, and just enough cleavage to intrigue.

"It's about time for Matt to get picked up." Matt said, amazed at the softness of her creamy skin. Her eyes were darkening to jade, and he could feel her pulse speeding up under his thumb. He wasn't doing much better, the sudden tightness of his jeans bordering on painful.

"Oh," she breathed, her tongue darting out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. Mark's eyes fixated on the pink tip sliding across the soft flesh. A low groan escaped him before he lowered his mouth to hers. Willow's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his long tresses. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight against him. Desire swirled around them, through them, making them burn. Her soft body yielded against his hard one, their forms crushed tight against each other.

Mark couldn't get enough of her taste, her feel. His tongue slid across hers, his teeth gently scraping her lips. Willow's body was pulsing, her blood humming as she tried to get closer. She hadn't felt this way in years, and she desperately wanted more. When his hand slid around the expanse of her waist to reverently cup her breast, she gasped and pulled back, staring deeply into the black depths of his eyes. She gasped again when his palm rubbed over her nipple, his fingers gently kneading the soft swell.

"I think," he began, his voice husky. "That we," he nibbled lightly on her bottom lip. "Should go to lunch." Willow blinked, her hazy brain having trouble grasping his words.

"Wha?" She mumbled, the feel of his hand on her breast going a long was towards making her nonsensical. Couple that with his hard length pressed against her, and his mouth teasing hers, and coherent thought had pretty much taken a hike. He chuckled, the deep, throaty sound adding yet another layer to her stupor.

"I want to know who you are, Willow, before I take you." Her breath hitched again, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she told herself to start breathing before she passed out. He brushed a kiss across her forehead, before reluctantly releasing her. Her body immediately reacted to the loss, and she shivered, suddenly feeling cold. Mark pulled out a cigarette, his eyes roaming over her flustered face. Just as he was about to say 'fuck it' and plunder her sweet little body, a knock reverberated through the room.

Flashing him a smile, she turned to answer the door. Mark lit his cigarette, admiring her slim legs, and the curve of her ass through her denim shorts. *God, she's gorgeous* he thought, smoking absently, craning his neck to see who was at the door. He scowled when he recognized Xander.

"What do you want, Xan?" Willow asked, feeling the pleasant tingles recede to give way to renewed tension. Xander offered her a sheepish smile.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Willow crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. He tried to walk past her into the room, but she blocked him.

"I don't understand you. That was something so huge, and you kept it from me, her mother, and Giles. Why?"

"I didn't think that you'd want to know. I mean, honestly, she was having that. . .thing's baby. It's not like it was Angel's. When he had his soul, that is." Xander explained.

"It wouldn't have mattered to me. Buffy is my friend, and I love her. You made it so she had to go through that alone. You even made sure that it took Spike five years to find out he had a child. Where do you get off making decisions for other people? It started with lying to Buffy about me doing the spell, and it just snowballed from there. It's getting so I don't know you anymore." Willow shook her head, her tear-filled eyes searching his face. She'd hoped to see remorse for his actions, but all he seemed to be was sorry he got caught. "Why did you want to find her, if you were so disgusted by her son?" She asked him wearily, wiping the tears away.

"Because, I do love her, and I miss her. I'm willing to look past her. . ." Suddenly, Willow was pulled away from the door, and Xander found himself faced with one pissed off Indian. Mark had heard more than enough out of him.

"You. Need. To. Leave." Mark told him, stressing each word. His eyes were blazing and his jaw was clenched.

"I don't think this is any of your business." Mark's hands clenched into fists, and he struggled not to plow one right into his face.

"Where Anne and Matt are concerned, it is my business," he growled. Willow moved up beside him, lightly resting a hand on his arm. Xander looked confused, not understanding who Mark was talking about.

"Who the hell is Anne?" Mark's eyes shut, and he silently wondered how Spike had managed no to kill this idiot.

"Buffy." Willow supplied, worried eyes trained on Mark. Xander smirked as a thought occured to him.

"Watch out, Will. Looks like you'll have to deal with the 'Ghost of Buffy' with this one." The younger man didn't have time to react before Mark fisted his hand in the front of his shirt, and yanking him forward.

"Let's you and me come to an understanding, shall we?" His pleasant smile was offset by the deadly gleam in his eyes. "I'm not soulless. I'm not evil. And I am certainly NOT a 'thing'. But, I will kill you if you hurt anybody that I care about, and that includes those that they care about." His implication of Spike was clear, not that Mark was concerned that the vampire couldn't handle this loser, it was just the point he was trying to get across. With an icy glare, he shoved the brunette away and slammed the door. Turning to Willow, he caught the look of uncertainty in her eyes. Cursing Xander to a fiery and painful death, he pulled her to him, his mouth crushing hers in a kiss that told her just who he wanted. When he pulled away, they were both panting heavily.

"I think, we need to go to lunch." She said, breathlessly, he entire body trembling from the power of the kiss.

"Yeah." He agreed, stepping back from her. Together, they turned and left the room, neither caring where Xander had gone.

~*~*~

With a deep, unnecessary breath, Spike raised his hand and knocked on Anne's door. He was pleased to see that she had, indeed been doing well for herself, despite the means she had to go through to get it. He listened to the movement on the other side of the door in the second before it swung open, revealing Anne. Her dark hair hung in a braid down her back, allowing her slender shoulders to be exposed. Her top was a pink scoop necked peasant blouse, and she had on a pair of white capri leggings. She smiled wide when she saw him.

"Hi, come on in Spike." She said, and just like that, the barrier was lifted. He smirked when he walked through, before handing her a bouquet. Her eyes lit up, and she squealed a little before taking them.

"Thank you. They're beautiful." She sighed, inhaling the scent of the wildflowers.

"Not as beautiful as you." He murmured, sliding a hand down her cheek. She practically glowed at that, and she leaned up to brush a kiss across his mouth. They both savored the moment, before a tiny voice broke them apart.

"Mommy?" They both turned to see the dark haired little boy, dressed in a pair of shorts and a Scooby t-shirt. Spike stared longingly at the boy, wanting to scoop him up and keep him safe for eternity.

"Matt, come here. I want you to meet Spike." The adults exchanged a glance before Spike lowered to his knee to be at eye level with the boy.

"I like your coat." The boy said shyly.

"Thank you. I like your shirt." Matt beamed with pride, his tiny chest puffing out to make Scooby seem bigger.

"He's my favrit. Spike's a funny name." The vampire grinned at that.

"Yes, I suppose it is." He agreed. "I have another, if you would rather call me that. It's William."

"Nah, I like Spike." Matt took a tiny step closer. "You talk funny too."

"Yeah, I'm from England. You know where that is?"

"Yea, it's cross the oshun." Matt answered, smiling again. Spike returned the grin. Anne watched the exchange with a combination of amusement and terror, feeling as if she were waiting for the other shoe to drop. "C'n I ask you a kestion?"

"Sure." Spike settled in a bit more comfortably, enjoying the child.

"Are you my daddy?"

 

Chapter 10

Anne and Spike's stunned eyes looked at the little dark haired, blue eyed boy. He regarded them both curiously, waiting for the answer. Spike blinked, and looked at Anne. She half shrugged, them nodded, indicating for him to go ahead and answer. The vampire took a deep breath, and turned his eyes back to the miniature of himself.

"Why would you ask that?" Spike asked him. The look Matt gave him made him feel like he was biggest dolt on the planet.

"I have your face." Well, they couldn't argue with that. Then he waited a beat. "Are you my daddy?" He repeated again.

"Yeah, I am." Spike answered, simply. He wasn't prepared when he found his arms suddenly filled with a squirming bundle of giggling child. He sat, paralyzed for a second, them gingerly wrapped his arms around the warm, tiny body, his eyes drifting closed.

"Mommy was right. You did come back." He exclaimed, burying his face in his father's cool neck. "I'm not ilgityment no more," he cried happily. Spike's eyes shot to Anne, and she grimaced.

"A little boy at school told him that," she explained quietly, wiping away the tears that sprang to her eyes. Spike nodded, feeling, for the first time in five years, the need to kill somebody. Matt pulled away and smiled brightly at his father, and the blonde felt his undead heart constrict.

"You going to stay, Daddy?" If possible, even more emotion swelled in Spike that nearly choked him. He had to wait to make sure he wouldn't break down before answering.

"Yeah, poppet. I'm going to stay." This elicited another squeal from the child, and he hugged his father once more.

"Matt," Anne started, waiting until he turned to look at her. "Why don't you show your father your room. I'm sure he'd like to see it."

"Okay, come on." Matt tugged on Spike's hand, urging him to get up. He stood, curling his fingers around the small hand and gave Anne a sad smile. He'd missed so much, and he found himself cursing himself yet again for ever leaving her.

"You want a beer?" she asked as he moved past her.

"God, yes." He said back, the emotion on his face causing her eyes to tear up again.

"I'll bring it back." He nodded, and allowed the boy to pull him back to his room.

When Anne entered the room a few minutes later, she stopped in the door to watch the scene before her. Spike had shrugged off his duster and was sitting in the middle of the Scooby throw rug, listening to Matt explain the intricacies of Lincoln Logs.

"An' you haf to put the pieces like this." Matt told him, very carefully constructing the log house. Anne never knew where his patience came from, cause, God knew she didn't have it. But, watching father and son, and the very intent way Spike was listening to him, as if he was whispering the secrets of the world, Anne figured it out. He was even more like Spike, or maybe it was William, than she had realized.

Spike glanced up at her, smiling. She moved into the room, and knelt down with them.

"Whatcha building there, Michelangelo?" She asked, handing Spike his beer. Matt looked up at his mother, his lopsided grin still in place.

"A fort." Anne looked suitably impressed.

"A fort, huh? For what?"

"To keep out cowboys." Anne snickered. At Spike's confused look, she laughed even harder.

"Mark's influence. He came over here wearing a shirt that said 'My Heroes have always Killed Cowboys', and Matt demanded to know what it meant. So, Mark told him. The abbreviated version of course." The blonde pushed back the jealously that surged over the other man getting to be in his child's life. Mark seemed decent enough, and at least he wasn't Xander.

"You guys want to come out on the patio with me, while I cook the steaks?"

"Yeah." Matt cried, tugging on Spike yet again. The vampire grinned at the excited child and followed him. Anne trailed behind them out to the kitchen, and through the french doors to the brick patio. It was illuminated by the mosquito torches and the outside light over the kitchen door. The warm night air smelled sweet with the potted plants she had arranged around the small surrounding wall. A wrought iron table and chairs sat in the middle of the patio, and a grill sat close to the wall. A large bowl with a salad in it sat on the table, aluminum foil covering it from any bugs that went exploring.

Matt scrambled into one of the chairs, pulling the foil off to sneak a cucumber out of the bowl. He smiled brightly at Anne's raised eyebrow, unabashedly shoving the vegetable into his mouth.

"Sit down, daddy." Spike didn't know if he'd ever get used to hearing that, as his undead heart turned in his chest. He blinked back his tears once again, smiling at Anne as he moved to do just that. He too reached into the bowl and plucked out a tomato. Which he promptly choked on when Matt's next question popped out.

"Why are you cold daddy? Are you sick?" Spike coughed, looking helplessly at Anne. She just arched a brow and went into the kitchen to get the meat. Successfully leaving him on his own, he turned back to the boy, and struggled with his answer. Before he could come up with a suitable one, Matt's confused look changed into one of enlightenment. "Are you a vampire? Mommy said vampires are cold." He smiled, pleased with his discovery.

"Your mommy told you about vampires?" Spike was a little stunned. He never expected that. Anne walked back out then, trying to hide her smile.

"Yeah, she dinnit want me to be fraid of the dark. She tol' me they can't come in without being vited, first. So, don't be fraid."

"Well, she's right." Spike slid a look over at the busily grilling Anne, pulling his cigarettes out and lighting one.

"But, if you're a vampire, and my daddy, are vampires bad?" Matt looked at his father, eyes trusting. Anne turned then, curious as to how he'd answer. Spike took a large swallow of beer, and a drag of his cigarette before answering.

"Yes, most are. There is an exception here and there." He finally said, smiling at his child. Matt seemed to accept that, and reached into the bowl for another cucumber.

"Uh hum." He looked up at his mother, who was standing next to the table now, tapping her foot.

"Yes, Mommy?" Matt asked, innocently, looking at his mother with wide eyes. His innocent act might have worked, if it weren't for the cucumber he was speaking around.

"Quit poking around in the salad. Go wash your hands, dinner's almost ready." She ordered, not turning back to the grill until he was out of salad range. She jumped a little, when she felt Spike's hands settle on her shoulders.

"That was wrong, kitten." He whispered, his soft voice in her ear, and his cool breath on her neck sending pleasant chills over her skin.

"Hey, welcome to parenthood," she told him, giggling. "I forgot to mention he has this awesome memory. We had that conversation last year, after Halloween." She said, leaning into him a little. Whenever she was in his company, her feelings seemed less scrambled, and more centered and sure. Gone was her intense nervousness of the morning, in its place was a sort of contentment, almost like this was what was meant to be.

"I'm going to get you back for that." He promised, his teeth grazing her earlobe. She shivered in response, and felt the accompanying dampness in her panties.

"Spike, Matt is awake." She reminded him AND herself. "Go sit down. The steaks are done." She ordered, hearing the pounding feet of their son heading back through the kitchen. Reluctantly, he stepped back and turned in time to pluck the four year old up and twirl him around. Matt giggled helplessly in return, liking the way his stomach dipped while he was spinning.

"Again, Daddy." He demanded, and Spike happily complied. Anne turned, holding the platter and watched, her heart flip flopping in her chest. This was what it could have been like from the start, she thought, cursing the twist of fate that took her from L.A. If she'd only stayed. . .no, no regrets. Things were as they should be now, and that was all that mattered.

"Alright, you two. Sit." Obediently, they did, and she walked over to join them. Once they were settled, they began to eat, Matt regaling them with tales of what went on in San Rios Learning Academy for Pre-Schoolers.

~*~*~

After dinner, they moved inside, and were now sitting in the living room. Matt sat securely between his parents, constantly touching or looking at Spike, as if he was afraid he would disappear. When Anne announced that it was his bedtime, he protested.

"Listen to your mum, bit. I'll see you tomorrow." Spike told him, the look in his eye brooking no argument. With a hanging head, Matt climbed off the couch, then launched into his father's arms. Tears sprang to the vampire's eyes once more when he heard the tiny declaration.

"I love you, daddy."

"I love you too." He whispered back, dropping a kiss on the dark curls on top of his head. Anne had to brush her own hand over her eyes to stem the flow.

"I'll be right back." She told him, when Matt climbed down and started towards his room. Spike could only nod, not trusting his voice. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it while waiting for her to come back.

Fifteen minutes later, she walked back out into the living room to find him staring intently at the pictures on the entertainment center. They were all of Matt, from birth til current. Some were with her, others were with Mark, but the majority were just him.

"Hey, he's all settled." She said, coming to stand next to him. He was currently looking at one that had been taken in the hospital. Anne was sitting up in the bed, looking tired but happy, with the red faced baby in her arms. Mark had been camera happy that day, having taken several shots in the space of a few minutes. She had been annoyed at the time, but now, she was happy that she had them.

She watched Spike as he lifted a finger, and traced it over the picture.

"I missed so much," he whispered, his voice thick and rough. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and rested her cheek against his arm.

"I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you stay in L.A.?" He asked, his tone slightly accusatory. She sighed, and moved away from him to sit back on the couch. She knew this question was coming, and she had kicked herself a thousand times for not doing just that. But at the time, she was so young, and so scared. She didn't really know WHAT she was doing.

"Come here," she said, patting the cushion next to her. She waited until he was seated next to her, his arm curved around her shoulder before she began.

"Xander found me."

_Los Angeles, 1998_

"I'm coming," Buffy yelled groggily, running an agitated hand through her duel colored hair. She knew it looked like shit, but the doctor had pretty much told her no dying of the hair, no medication unless cleared through him, no smoking (duh), and no drinking (again, duh.) And truth be told, she didn't give a crap how she looked. Nobody was around to see her anyway, so what did it matter? Making sure she had a stake ready, just in case, she opened the door. Then stood and stared at the man standing outside.

"Hi, Buffy," Xander said, his tired, apologetic face offering her a smile. Anger burst through her shock, and she glared at him.

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?" She shot out, looking down the hallway to see who else he brought with him. Finding that he was alone, she crossed her arms over her rounded belly and waited.

"Can I come in?" He asked, instead of answering her. With a roll of her eyes, she turned away and walked over to the couch, propping her swollen feet up on the coffee table. Xander came in, and turned and closed the door.

"What do you want, Xander?" She asked wearily, when all he did was stand there. She turned to look at him, and saw him staring at her stomach. Glaring once again, she grabbed a pillow and drew it across her. He shook himself and walked over to sit in one of the chairs, his dark eyes searching her face.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. For not telling you about the spell," he said finally. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them angrily away. She had promised herself that she was done crying when the doctor told her that the baby was healthy, and human. Amniocentesis were wonderful for that sort of thing apparently.

"Doesn't matter now," she said, twisting the stake in her hand. Angel was gone, Spike was gone. Her mother kicked her out. She had nobody now.

"I just," Xander started, shoving a hand through his hair. "I just didn't think. . ."

"That's right. You didn't," she cut him off, her snapping hazel eyes meeting his.

"You're right. I didn't. All I could think about was what he did to Ms. Calender. And Willow."

"That was Dru." She reminded him, gripping the stake.

"I know, but it was under his orders. I was against the spell all along. But, that's no excuse. I'm sorry." He sounded so sincere, that Buffy found herself relenting. Sighing heavily, she looked at him, the pain in her eyes nearly crippling.

"I'm not going to say it's alright, Xander. Because it's not. What you did. . .cost two people a lot." She said, watching the confusion pass over his face.

"Two people?"

"Dru went into Acathla with Angel." She said, her throat tightening once more. She huddled deeper into the black t-shirt she was wearing, Spike's smell long gone, since she'd obviously had to wash it. But, it still comforted her to wear it.

"I don't see how that's a bad thing," Xander replied. Anger snapped into her again.

"No, you wouldn't." He recoiled back, not knowing what he'd said wrong.

"Buffy, I'm not understanding here. Dru was one crazy bitch. What did it matter if she went to hell?"

"It mattered to Spike," she whispered. Xander's eyes widened, still struggling with confusion.

"Again with the 'so'?" His callous tone grated her last nerve, and she stood to throw the pillow at him. She was too afraid to touch him. He raised his arm and deflected the projectile, surprise evident in his features.

"You know what? This is obviously way beyond your limited brain capacity. Why don't you just go home?" She snapped, stalking into the kitchen. He followed her.

"I'm sorry if I don't understand the big deal. She was evil. Spike's evil. What do I care about their pain? They tried to KILL us, Buffy. Many times." He reminded her.

"I KNOW that, Xander. Hello, I was there."

"Then what's the big deal? You should be glad that Spike's suffering." Buffy closed her eyes and prayed for patience, one hand coming to rest on her stomach. Xander followed the action, his eyes staring in disbelief. Pushing the insane thought away, he took a deep breath and started again.

"Look, I don't know what to say. Okay? It's hard for me to feel sorry for him. His whole goal in life was to kill you, and he almost did. If it wasn't for that organ, who knows what might have happened." Buffy just sighed, and turned away.

"What do you want, Xander? There's more to this than an apology."

"I wanted to come and take you home." She snorted at that.

"Home? I am home," she said. It was funny how she felt just that. This apartment, full of Spike's stuff, was her home. Sunnydale seemed a million miles away now.

"No, Buffy. This is isn't home. This is running away. Your mother is worried." Guilt tripped through her, but she shoved it down.

"Well, she should have thought of that before she kicked me out," Buffy snapped, turning to face him again.

"She was scared, and confused. You can't hold that against her."

"The hell I can't. She thought I killed Kendra, Xander. How's that for motherly loyalty?"

"No she didn't. Not really, but think about how it looked. You were found over her body." Xander tried to soothe, but he only managed pissing her off more.

"Yeah, I know.” She reminded him. "But that's not the point, is it? She's my mother. How could she think that of me?" Tears spilled from her eyes, and Xander took a step forward. Her hand shot up to tell him to back off.

"Go home, Xander," she told him again, pushing past him to go back to the living room.

"Not without you," he said firmly. "You're still the Slayer, and the Hellmouth is still in Sunnydale." He resorted to using her duty against her.

"I don't give a fuck." She almost giggled at the look that crossed his face.

"How can you say that?" She shook her head, truly amazed at how thick he could be sometimes.

"I have more important things to worry about now" was all she offered.

"What, like that baby?" She looked up at him, her eyes slitting dangerously. "You didn't think I couldn't tell. Jesus, Buff, you're skin and bones. That little puff in the tummy area could only be one thing. My question is, it's not Angel's, who's is it?" His dark eyes begging her to lie to him.

"None of your business," she snapped.

"You fucked him, didn't you?" Xander's shock was thick, almost as thick as the disgust that replaced it. "How could you? And now you're pregnant? God, does a guy have to be dead to get between your legs?" His head snapped around as the flat of her hand connected.

"You're just pissed cause I wouldn't give you a chance," she spat. Fury burned in her eyes, rising up to meet his.

"Yeah, I was. Until two seconds ago." He shot back, rubbing a hand over his cheek. She raised her chin defiantly, her hands clenching into fists.

"Leave. Now."

"Buffy, I'm sorry. Look this doesn't have to ruin your life. Just, terminate it and come home. Nobody needs to know. I'll never tell." He said, imploringly. She looked at him as if he had just told her that the moon was really made out of cheese.

"You don't understand, do you? I want this baby."

"What? How. . .why?" He couldn't form a coherent thought, her words shocking him to his core.

"This is my only chance at having anything resembling a normal life. I'm taking it Xander. Calling and Hellmouth be damned. I'm sorry if that shatters your perfect little image of me, but I'm being selfish for once. I sent Angel to Hell to save the world. I'm not killing my child too." Buffy asserted.

"Even though it's father is a monster?"

"That just makes it more of a miracle. Neither of us were supposed to ever have children. It happened for a reason, and I'm not giving it up. So, go home Xander. Forget you know me. The new Slayer will be called, maybe you can get lucky with her." She ran a hand through her hair, and glared at him. Xander raised himself up to his full height, hurt, anger and shock twisting his face. He stalked past her, throwing out one last thing before leaving.

"This isn't over Buffy." Then, he was gone. She stared at the door for a full minute before bursting into a flurry of activity. She didn't know what he had planned, nor did she want to be here when he came back. Because she knew he would be back. Probably with her mother and Giles, and Willow for good measure. Picking up the phone on her way to the bedroom, she called information to get the number for the bus station, then called and got the time of the next bus leaving. She didn't care where it was going, as long as it got her out of here.

Grabbing a duffle bag out of the closet, she started to throw the few clothes she had bought into it. She then went into he bathroom and cleared out her stuff in there. Walking back into the bedroom, she flipped the mattress off the bed and grabbed the money that Spike had left her, all the while dialing her doctor's number. She left a message with his answering service that she had to leave town, and would call him when she got to where she was going so he could give her a referral. Then, she threw the phone on the box spring, and took one last look around. She made a mental note to call Willy as soon as she got to wherever she decided to stop and give him a new message for Spike. It had only been three months, and she was pretty sure he would still be outrunning his grief for awhile. If he ever went back to Sunnydale, that is.

Hefting the bag onto her shoulder, she grabbed her jacket off the hook on the door and left the apartment without a backwards glance.

_San Rios, Arizona, 3 months later_

Mark watched as the very tiny, very pregnant woman walked into the bar. She was a pretty little thing, way too young to be in there. When she came to a stop in front of him, her hazel eyes were full of pain.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concern etched on his face. Buffy looked up at into the kind, dark eyes of the stranger.

"My name is Anne Williams. And I need some help."

**Chapter 10**

"And, I've been here ever since." Anne finished, risking a look at his face. He had sat quietly while she talked, his eyes trained on her face, his hand drawing light circles on her arm. He was surprised that she had used his name, and it touched him. And, Xander had better pray that they didn't meet face to face any time soon. He wouldn't be held accountable for his actions.

"What were you afraid of?" He asked, twirling a strand of hair over his finger. She sighed heavily, sinking deeper into the curve of his arm.

"What wasn't I afraid of?" She replied. "I think the biggest thing I was afraid of was fucking up. Again. I was given this gift. . .I won't lie to you, when I first found out that I was pregnant, I was terrified. I spent the first month, crying. I was the Slayer, pregnant by a vampire. A soulless vampire to boot." She felt his arm tense around her, and she reached for his hand. He wanted to know, he was going to have to hear it without freaking. "But, after the first sonogram, and I saw the little blip in the screen, I was amazed. This little life, was ours. It was you and me, and for whatever reason, the Powers, God, the Fates, I dunno, gave it to us. I didn't want anything bad to touch it. Xander showing up and sprouting off his prejudice, no matter how grounded, just made it all real. If that was his reaction, then what would my mother's or Giles' be? I was even afraid of what Willow would say, and out of them all, she was the only one supportive of me and Angel." He frowned at the mention of his sire, and involuntary image of Dru popping into his head. "As much as I loved them, I didn't trust them with my son," she said, guilt and shame lacing though her words.

"Your mum's never seen him?" She shook her head, shifting so she looked at him fully.

"I've sent pictures. A month after Matt was born, Mark talked me into it." Again, Mark. Spike was having a hard time controlling the jealousy that threatened to choke him.

"How come you and Mark never. . .?" he trailed off, leaving it open.

"How come we never got together?" Her hazel eyes searched his face, a soft smile touching her lips. His expression was a cross between fear, jealousy, and a deep vulnerability that she had never known was there. "Maybe I was waiting for something," she whispered, shifting again until she was sitting on her knees, her torso pressed against his side. Their faces were close, her hand splayed against his chest. His arm slid around her waist, the implication of her words making his eyes darken to sapphire.

"What might that have been?" he whispered back. Their mouths hovered, inches from each other, their breathing quickened. He could hear her heart race, smell the blood speeding through her veins. His own reaction to her heat, her very essence, pressing tight against his jeans.

"You," she gasped, finally closing the distance between them. This time, the kiss was different. They played instead of plundered, teased instead of tempted. Even though they had kissed before, this was the first done out of feeling, not physical reaction. And that made it sweeter, more intense. When they pulled back, they were clinging tightly to each other, tears of lost time sliding down their cheeks.

"I'm not gong anywhere, Buffy," he told her quietly. "A stake through the heart is the only thing that will take me from you and Matt." He ran a thumb over her cheek, wiping the moisture away.

"Promise?" Her voice was small, her eyes hopeful.

"Promise." Their mouths touched again, gentle whispers and caresses, barely there touches. When they separated again, she snuggled next to him, her head resting on his chest.

"There's a carnival coming to town next week. Me and Mark take Matt every year." She started, rushing through the rest. "Would you want to take us this year?"

"A carnival. With rides and stuff?" He clarified. The last one he'd been to he'd taken a bite out of a teenager that had consumed so much junk it nearly rotted his fangs. He didn't figure she'd appreciate the memory.

"Yeah, and enough sugary goodness to keep the dentists in the area busy for the next six months," she chuckled. He snorted, thinking that what she had said almost mirrored his own thoughts.

"It would be my pleasure." He responded, his voice gaining a higher class accent than he normally used. She smiled, and stifled a yawn. Spike brushed his lips across her head, and nudged her a little.

"Think that's my cue, kitten," he said, and with a sigh, she sat up. "I'll come by tomorrow?"

"Yeah. That'd be great." She smiled shyly at him, biting her bottom lip.

"Til tomorrow, then." He said, rising to his feet, pulling her with him. She followed him to the door, leaning in for his kiss once more. "Goodnight, Buffy."

"Goodnight, Spike." She watched as he walked to his car, leaning her body against the door. With a final wave as he pulled away, she closed it, and locked it, then went to get ready for bed, her happiness putting a bounce in her step.

~*~*~

Spike pulled into the parking spot in front of his room, his mind replaying the entire evening over and over. His son was so beautiful, so smart. He pushed open the door, a love like he had never felt blooming in his chest. And Buffy. . . Her warmth and light touched him in ways that he never thought possible. Slamming the car door closed, he was too enraptured in his thoughts of his family to hear the person behind him. Suddenly, he found himself on his knees, stars dancing behind his eyes, and pain slicing through his skull. He growled as another blow landed across his kidneys, leaving him sprawled across the pavement.

Several more blows followed in quick succession, and through the roaring in his head, he was able to make out another roar. The roar of a car engine, and the screeching of tires. Footfalls and yelling penetrated his mind, and he realized that the attack had stopped. He growled at the hand that touched him on his back, blinking rapidly to clear the spots. When Willow's concerned face came into focus, he frowned.

"Wha. . .? " He gasped, pushing himself up to his knees. He turned his head, rage beginning to burn bright as he took in the scene before him. Mark had Xander jacked up on the hood of a black, '68 Camaro, his vampiric hearing picking out the words.

"What the hell did I tell you?" Mark growled. Willow looked on, fear evident in her eyes. Mark was bringing her home, (he had called out of work) and she had recognized Xander with a crowbar attacking the blonde from across the street. Mark had made the turn quickly, screeching to a halt behind the DeSoto, and jumped out before Willow had a chance to react. She had scrambled out and ran to Spike, relieved to see he had just been surprised and stunned. Now, he was already on his feet, in full game face, stalking towards the brunette men.

"Let him up, Tonto," he snarled. Mark turned to glare at him, not fazed by the demonic visage of the vampire. He'd known what he was before, no need to act all girly now. Seeing the look in the vampire's gold eyes, he let go, backing up to stand next to Spike.

"Don't kill him. Anne wouldn't like it. And don't call me Tonto" was all he said as he stepped further back.

"Oh, I won't kill him," Spike said, advancing on Xander. "You want a piece of me, boy? Care to take me on now that my back isn't turned?" he growled.

"Hello, vampire. Have to take any advantage I can get." Xander sneered, sliding off the hood to his feet. Spike let out a bitter laugh, and shook back into his human features.

"Hey, I'll even let you take the first shot." He stood, arms held out at his sides, chin held at an angle to give the other man a good shot. Willow's eyes darted between the three, alarm all over her face. Xander was standing in front of the car, still clutching the crowbar. Spike was in front of him, every muscle coiled to strike. And Mark was next to her, the look on his face making him seem just as dangerous as Spike. He was prepared to jump in should it get out of hand, and she wasn't sure if she liked that idea. She tried to keep her eyes on all of them at once, waiting for the moment to send them in different directions if need be.

Xander looked at Spike, feeling some of his bravado slip now that he was actually faced with the pissed off vamp. He silently cursed Mark and Willow's timing. He had planned on strike and retreat. Get the hell out of Dodge before Spike recovered enough to kill him. Now, he had a choice. Fight, and deal with the possibility of death. Or run. He didn't care for the thought of running, so he fisted his hand around the crowbar and swung. The hit sent Spike's head snapping around, a cut opening on his jaw. But, as he slowly turned back towards Xander, the man felt an icy finger of fear trail down his spine at the evil grin that was on the blonde's face.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He said, in the second before his fist plowed into Xander's stomach. The boy doubled over, his groan of pain filling the air. Spike grabbed a fistful of his hair, bringing his head up and slamming it back down onto his upraised knee. The satisfying crunch of Xander's nose did nothing to alleviate the rage flowing through him, so he reached down to pick him up by the scruff of his neck. "Wanker," he spat, cocking his arm back to send another punch flying. Before he connected, he felt himself flying through the air, the sound of Willow's voice fading as he landed against the side of the hotel.

"Separate," she cried, sending Xander careening across the hood of Mark's car to the pavement on the other side, and Spike to the wall of the hotel. "Freeze!" This effectively immobilized them both. Mark watched the display with a mixture of amusement and awe. Spike was letting out a stream of colorful curses and Xander was groaning in pain from the concrete.

"That's enough. Both of you," she said, looking pointedly at Spike. He scowled, but nodded. She had allowed Spike his hits, feeling that Xander deserved them. However, she would not let the vampire decimate her best friend, no matter what he had done. It wasn't physically fair.

"Let me down, Red. I'm done." The look she gave him told him just how much she believed that. "Oh, come on. S'not like you can't do the hocus pocus and freeze me again." He said, looking exasperated. With a nod, she did, and Spike hit the ground in a heap. Giving him a warning glare, she turned and walked over to Xander. He was laying on the ground, blood pouring from his nose, and two spectacular black eyes blooming.

"Xander?" All she got was a cough in response. Kneeling down next to him, she placed a hand on his chest. "Xander?" She called again. He managed to open his eyes, pain and fury swirling in their depths. "That was stupid," she told him, shaking her head.

"Yeah, well, I never was too bright," he said, his forced laugh causing him to cough again.

"What were you thinking? Are you crazy?" she asked him, absolutely furious with him.

"Had to try, Will, before he hurt Buffy."

"Why in the bloody hell would I hurt Buffy, you git? She's the mother of my child!" Spike growled, coming up behind Willow. Mark moved to the other side, looking down at the younger man.

"So, that makes you all good and not wanting to kill the Slayer? Right. Sorry, ain't buying it."

"Even if that were the case, Xander. Buffy can handle herself." Willow reminded him.

"Yeah, and she's always got Tonto, here," Spike said, jerking his thumb at Mark.

"Quit. Calling. Me. That." Mark said through clenched teeth. Spike snorted, and looked away.

"God, what is it with men?" Willow exclaimed, interrupting the fight starting behind her. "Is the testosterone clogging your brains, or something? Live or undead, you're all a bunch of morons." With a disgusted flip of her hair, she stalked away. Let them kill each other, she didn't much care at the moment. Shooting a glare at Spike, Mark took off after her, barely making it through her door before she slammed it.

"Going to kill me now?" Xander asked without humor. Spike could see that's what he expected.

"No. Not going to waste my time. But, I will tell you this, stay away from me and mine. Understand?" He shifted back into game face, pleased to see the fear penetrate the hate in the boy's eyes.

"What are you going to do? Try to play family man now?" Xander let out a bitter laugh, rolling to climb up to his knees. "You're a monster, Spike. A demon. How do you think that's going to help in the parent department, huh? What can you teach him about being a PRODUCTIVE member of society? How to dismember a body in thirty seconds or less?" Spike struggled to keep his hands at his sides, and not show Xander that he could do that last one in a LOT less than thirty seconds.

"I mean it, whelp. I don't want to see you around me, or Buffy, OR MY SON. Ever." His voice dipped dangerously low, his gold eyes blazing. Xander shrank back, his ire not dissipating despite the threat in the blonde's eyes. But, he didn't say anymore, just watched as Spike turned in a swirl of black leather, and strode away.

~*~*~

Mark leaned against the cheap wood dresser of the hotel, while getting his first taste of the redhead's anger. He had to admit, he was a bit unnerved by the flashing black of her eyes.

"It was bad enough that Xander goes and attacks Spike, then YOU have to go get all offended cause he calls you by a stupid nickname!" She cried, crossing her arms over her heaving breasts. "God, petty much?"

"It's offensive." He tried to defend himself.

"Spike is always offensive. He wears it with pride, like his duster." She shot back. "You'll just have to get used to it. Especially if you want to keep peace around Buffy." She paced the length of the room, her face flushed with anger. Why did guys have to be so stupid? She was upset about Xander, then Spike and Mark have to start a pissing contest. She could almost feel Spike's jealousy towards Mark, even through his rancor at Xander. And it so didn't help with the guitar player getting all sensitive about Spike's usual antics. Bad situation made worse in a matter of seconds, just add male ego.

Mark sighed and stepped in front of her, a brow quirking at the narrowing of her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'll try not to let it get to me," he said. Willow looked doubtful, but she knew he really wasn't the one she was angry with. She wasn't even mad at Spike. Xander was the one in the wrong here, and she was having a hard time having any sympathy for her friend.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go mental. It was just. . .too much. Ya know?" Mark nodded. "I don't know what to do about Xander. The longer we're here, the more he seems to lose control," she said, leaning her forehead against his chest. He ran his hands over her arms, soothing her.

"As my old Indian grandmother used to say, everybody has to find their own way. He'll either find a way to deal with it, or he'll alienate himself from the people he supposedly loves," he said. She tilted her head back and smiled up at him.

"Old Indian grandmother, huh? She got anymore insightful sayings? Like, what to do when you find yourself incredibly attracted to a man you just met?" She asked, uncrossing her arms and looping them around his waist. His eyes turned black, and he grinned, causing her heart to skip.

"Yeah. She'd say, go for it." Willow's giggle was cut off by the sudden possession of his mouth over hers. She moaned softly as he kissed her breathless, his expert mouth moving sensuously over hers. His hands ran over her arms and across her back, sliding under the hem of her shirt to skim over the smooth skin of her back. She shuddered at the feel of his warm hands on her back, fire starting to run through her veins.

When they broke away, he continued to draw circles on her back.

"I can't, not yet," she whispered, hiding her face in his chest.

"Willow, look at me." He waited until she did, then continued. "If all I wanted was an easy lay, I would have taken one of those girls up on their offer last night. I don't expect anything. I want you, not going to lie about that. Almost since the second I saw you. God, was it only yesterday?" He was amazed that it was happening so quick. But, then again, his grandmother always told him, when it's right, you just know. Maybe that was why he never really pursued Anne. He loved her, and he knew that he could FALL in love with her, if he let himself. However, something always held him back. Holding this woman in his arms, he thanked the inner voice that kept him from falling completely over the edge for his friend.

"Yeah, it's kinda scary isn't it? I have . . .limited experience with men. I was in love with Xander for most of my life. Then I met Oz. But, that didn't happen like this." She said, wonder filling her eyes. She missed the grimace at her admission of love for Xander. He was thankful her taste had improved. "I don't want to get hurt again," she admitted quietly.

"I don't want to hurt you." He replied, smiling down at her. "There's no rush, for anything. I can wait." She smiled up at him, wondering if she could. The more she learned about him, the more she was around him, the more she wanted to let this feeling take her over. She had never believed in love at first sight, and she wasn't sure if she did now. But, something was definitely between them.

"Thank you," she told him, standing on her tip toes to claim his mouth again.

"Better stop this, or I'm going to forget that I'm trying to be noble," he teased. Her face turned the color of her hair, and he found himself charmed by it. "Can I see you tomorrow?" He asked.

"I kinda want to get together with Buffy tomorrow, if you don't mind." Willow said, apologetically. "But, definitely call me tomorrow. Or, should I call you? Is that too forward?" She asked, her brows drawing together.

"I'll call you. In the morning. Okay?" He said with a smile. She nodded, ducking her head, feeling silly. Sometimes she just couldn't keep that nerdy girl she had been from popping out.

"Okay." She mumbled against his shirt. Tucking a finger under her chin. He dropped a light kiss on her mouth and stepped away.

"I'll talk to you in the morning." Mark said with his trademark grin, sending her a wink before turning and walking out the door. Willow found herself smiling like a school girl with her first crush, and couldn't find it in herself to mind. It had been too long since she had felt this way, and she liked it. Doing a quick spin, she turned to go into the bathroom, for a shower then sleep, with dreams hopefully filled by the tall, dark Indian that kissed like the devil.

~*~*~

Spike lay sprawled across his bed, his naked form still tense from the fight. The hand holding his cigarette tapped lightly against his chest, the other thrown over his bleached head. He had tried to get back his earlier good mood by replaying the evening at Buffy's in his head. But, each time he imagined Matt's face, Xander's words would slam into him.

What if the whelp was right? He wasn't Angel, he didn't have the benefit of a soul. He knew the difference between right and wrong, he just didn't care. Or he hadn't. One day in the arms of the Slayer had changed him. He hadn't killed in so long, he had practically forgotten the want for it. But what if it didn't last?

Doubt and anxiety coursed over him, making him feel useless and weak. This wasn't like him. There used to be a time where he would see what he wanted and take it. He wanted Buffy, and he wanted Matt. What was the problem?

"You're a monster, a demon." Xander's voice rang through his head once more, making him growl. He would prove him wrong. He would show him, Buffy, and himself that he could be a good father, and a good mate.

Crushing out his cigarette, he rolled over onto his stomach, and forced the image of Xander from his mind. Nothing would keep him from what was his. He'd made a promise to Buffy, and he would die again before breaking it.

 

**Chapter 11**

"Hey, Will." Anne said, throwing the magazine she was holding aside. She and Matt were spending a lazy Saturday morning on the couch, cartoons on the TV. Well, at least she was trying to. Matt had been chattering non-stop about Spike, and how he couldn't wait to tell Sam that he DID have a daddy. He hadn't actually required a response from her, so she had picked up the magazine, pretending to read it while her own thoughts were consumed with the blonde vampire. She had just replayed their kiss on the couch over for like, the thousandth time, when the phone rang.

"Hi, Buffy. I wanted to know. . .if it's alright with you. . .that is," Anne smiled as she listened to Willow stammer, feeling like they hadn't spent the last five years apart. "Would you mind if I come over? Only if you don't mind," she added quickly.

"I want to see you too, Willow," Anne replied. She could almost see the look of relief rush to her friend's face.

"Oh. Good. In about an hour?"

"That'll be great." Anne gave her the address, then hung up with a smile.

"Whossat, Mommy?" Matt asked, looking up from the TV.

"That was my good friend, Willow. She's coming over soon. Wanna clean up your toys for me?"

"A'right." He clamored down from the couch, and started to pick up his stuff. Stretching, she stood and went to throw on some clothes. After she changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt with 'The Glamour Factory' written graffiti style across it, she went back out into the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. Her dark hair was twisted up and secured with a claw, her feet bare. By the time she was done with that, and the straightening of the living room, Willow's cab pulled up. Anne had a fleeting thought that her house had seen more visitors in the last twenty four hours than it had since she bought it.

"Hey, Willow. Welcome to casa de Williams." They embraced again when the redhead walked inside.

"Hi. Wow, I love your house." Willow gushed, looking around. She smiled wide when her eyes landed on Matt. "Hello there." His wide blue eyes studied her with an intensity that immediately reminded her of Spike.

"You're the lady in the pitcher by Mommy's bed." He said, feeling pleased with himself. Willow looked over at Anne.

"I have one of you, me and Giles in the library."

"Oh. Well, my name's Willow. And I'll bet that you're Matt." She said, kneeling down to his level. Matt gave her a beaming smile, and she felt her heart melt.

"Yep, Matthew Rupert Williams." He exclaimed proudly. Willow's eyes widened, and she grinned hugely at him.

"Well, Matthew Rupert Williams, I'm very pleased to meet you." She held out her hand, and the giggling boy took it. After they shook hands, Willow stood, still smiling goofily.

"Matt, could you go play in your room for a bit? Me and Willow have to talk about some things. Okay?" He looked a little disappointed at not being able to study this new person, but he nodded.

"Bye."

"Bye, Matt. I'll see you before I leave." Willow assured the crestfallen child. She turned to Anne when he disappeared down the hall.

"He is so sweet, Buffy. And the spitting image of Spike." She giggled a bit at that. Anne smiled ruefully.

"Yeah, I know. And after last night, I am even more convinced that there are absolutely no genes of mine floating around in him. Come on, I put on coffee."

"Last night?" Willow asked, following her into the kitchen.

"Yeah, last night was 'the meeting'." The redhead's eyes widened in understanding.

"How did it go?"

"Great. Just, great." An almost secret smile touched Anne's lips as she took two blue, stoneware mugs out of the cabinet.

"Good. Wish things had stayed that way." Willow took the mug of coffee from Anne, and moved to sit with her at the table.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confusion in her hazel eyes. The witch took a deep breath, not really wanting to tell, but knowing she should. Xander was already in enough hot water with the former Slayer, and this would make it worse.

"We caught Xander attacking Spike last night at the hotel."

"What?" Anne's voice had lost all of it's warmth, and her head turned, as if encouraging Willow to repeat it in her 'good' ear.

"Xander attacked Spike last night. With a crowbar." She repeated, feeling miserable. The storm clouds that drifted through Anne's eyes was enough to make her nervous.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Guess he thought he was being helpful. You know Xander. Believe me, he hasn't changed much in five years." She replied with a snort, taking a sip of her coffee. She watched as her friend's knuckles turned white on the hand she was clenching into a fist.

"And he wonders why I didn't go home," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. For what it's worth."

"It's not your fault, Will."

"Maybe it is. If I hadn't done that spell to get us here, then it wouldn't have happened." Willow felt guilt surge once more. She grasped the fingers that snaked out to cover hers.

"No, I'm glad you did. I didn't know how much I missed you until I saw you," Anne told her. Sighing, she pulled her hand away. "Xander is just going to have to get over himself," she said with a shrug. Feeling the need to change the subject, she met Willow's eyes again.

"So, how's things on the Hellmouth."

"Now, they're good. Before, after you left. Not so good." Anne felt her own guilt surface at the thought of leaving her mother and friends at the mercy of every Big Bad in the state of California and beyond. She pushed it back, telling herself she had done her duty. She had already died once for the world, and she had killed Angel. That was enough.

"Why? What happened?" she heard herself asking. Silently, she cursed, not really wanting to hear.

"Well, right after you left, nothing too big happened. It wasn't until graduation that shit hit the fan."

"Huh?" Willow took another sip of coffee, before continuing.

"The Mayor tried to ascend."

"Again with the huh?"

"He wanted to become some higher demon thingy, and take over the world or something. You know the drill. And, of course, our graduation fell on the day that was just perfect for this. So, he gave his speech, then turned into this giant snake thing and tried to eat the entire graduating class."

"Lovely." Anne said, eyes stunned.

"It was intense. The new Slayer, Faith was there. She blew him and the school up."

"Whoa." Willow giggled at the expression on Anne's face.

"On the plus side, Snyder got eaten."

"Cool, score one for the snake demon."

"On the minus side, Harmony got turned by some vamp that worked for him."

"Oh, God. Tell me somebody staked her to put you guys out of your misery."

"Finally, Xander did. Using Cordy for bait." Both girls laughed at that.

"Again. Didn't she ever get tired of that?" The light in Willow's eyes faded a bit.

"Finally. They broke up senior year. She got tired of him always bitching about you being gone. Right after graduation, she left. I get a postcard every once in awhile."

"That's too bad. After I got over her somewhat grating personality, I thought they were kinda cute. Nobody could quite put Xander in his place like Cordy," Anne said, remembering the brunette fondly. Time softens a lot.

"Yeah." Willow thought about the times she had wanted to curse the prom queen for taking Xander away from her. But now, all she could do was wish that she had stayed. Despite all the bitching he did about her now, Xander still loved her.

"Speaking of exes. . ." Anne prompted, sipping her coffee, eyebrows raised in question.

"Oz." At the flash of hurt that crossed Willow's face, Anne back pedaled.

"Oh, you don't have to say if you don't want. I have no right to ask," she stammered. She didn't want to cause Willow pain. There had been enough of that going around before she left.

"No, it's not that. It's just. . .ho boy. He cheated on me." Anne's eyes nearly popped out of her head at that. She NEVER expected that from Oz.

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry. With who?" She was incredulous.

"Some she-wolf." Willow said bitterly. "She was the lead singer in some band that was playing at the Bronze. From the first time he saw her, he was like, entranced, or something. He started to break dates with me to go see them play. Then, one night, I dunno, he just gave in. She was always telling him to give into his wolf nature, don't cage the beast, and all that shit. And after that, it got worse."

"I don't see how," Anne told her. She got up to refresh their cooling cups, wishing she could take away the pain in her friend's face.

"Well, after their little. . .thing, he told her to get lost. He loved me and he couldn't hurt me like that."

"Good thing he waited until after they'd already done it," Anne sneered. Willow snorted.

"She took exception. Cornered me in the chemistry lab. God, Buffy, she had this way wicked control over it. Almost like she could turn it on and off. It was scary. Even more scary than the grr. Cause, she KNEW what she was doing."

"What happened?" Anne sat on the edge of her seat, her vivid imagination providing pictures to go with her friend's words.

"Oz came in right when she was about to make me her midnight snack. He killed her." Willow ran a finger around the rim of her mug, tears brimming in her eyes from the still fresh heartache.

"Oh, god, Will, I'm sorry." She repeated, knowing it wasn't enough, but what else could she say?

"Yeah. Me too. He left after that, saying he was afraid of the beasty side, and he didn't want to hurt me again. I haven't seen him since." She lifted one slender shoulder, her bright hair spilling over it.

"Well, maybe it was for the best," she offered lamely. How many times had she told herself that over the years? And how many times had it rung hollow?

"Maybe. But, the damage was done before she attacked me. I don't know if we could have ever gone back after that," Willow said quietly. They both sat quietly for a moment, each pondering the ways their lives had twisted and turned over the years. They broke out of their revery by a knock on the door.

"Who could that be?" Anne mumbled, rising to go answer it. She returned a moment later, a knowing smile in her face. Mark walked in behind her. A bright smile replaced the frown that had marred Willow's pretty face. He flashed her a grin in return, quirking a dark brow at the snickering Anne.

"What?"

"Nothing. Want some coffee?" She asked, reaching in to grab him a cup.

"Sure. Hey, Willow," he said, his deep voice softening. Anne bit back another snicker at her friend's smitten attitude. In all the years she had known him, he had NEVER acted like this around a girl. Not even her. *God, he must have it bad,* she thought, turning to hand him his mug. *Good for him* came next when she saw the sparkle in his eyes.

"Hi, Mark." Willow replied, her cheeks staining to a pretty red.

"MARK!" Mark reached down to steady the boy who had attached himself to his leg.

"Hey, there, grasshopper. What's up?"

"My daddy came home," Matt told him, excited.

"I know. Did you like him?" Mark asked in a conspiratory voice, smiling wide at the enthusiastic head bobbing of the child.

"Yeah, an' he's a vampire. Innit tha neat?"

"Isn't" Anne corrected. Matt scrunched up his nose, but never took his eyes off of Mark.

"Very neat." Mark saw no problem with the boy knowing, after all, he was going to find out some day, might as well be now. Willow, however, was shocked. Not appalled. Just shocked. It showed in the huge saucers of her green eyes, and the slight dropping of her jaw.

"Come on, Mark. Le's go play. They wanna talk." Matt told him, his tone very adult. Mark chuckled and allowed him to pull him into the back, casting one last look at the redhead.

"Willow? What's the matter?"

"I. . .I. . .uhm. I guess I just wasn't expecting you to tell him so soon. I mean, I know he has to know. . .it's just weird." Willow finished on a huff. She didn't want to piss Anne off. Anne just laughed.

"He asked."

"What?"

"He asked if Spike was sick because he was so cold, then came to the conclusion that he must be a vampire cause I told him that vampires were cold," she explained with a shrug. "I don't lie to him. There's too much danger in the world," she finished, waiting for the disapproval.

"Well, that's good. Wish somebody had mentioned to me that the nasties were real. Afterall, I grew up over the Hellmouth. Mighta been handy." She shot Anne a smile, happy to see it returned.

"Now, what did you do to that boy? He certainly is smitten." Anne leaned on the table, brow raised, eyes teasing.

"Nothing." Willow's face was the same shade as her hair.

"Did you carpe him?" Anne's tone was sly.

"Oh, God, no." Willow's eyes were saucer sized again, her appearance flustered.

"Why the hell not?" She demanded. "How long's it been since Oz left?"

"Three years. But, I'm not like that," she insisted.

"Neither's he. Wills, it wouldn't be a one night stand with him.. I don't think he knows how to do that." Anne told her, stressing the last sentence. Willow didn't care for the teasing to be directed just at her, so she turned the tables.

"What about you? Have you carpe'd Spike since. . .the last time you carpe'd him?" She snickered when Anne blushed.

"Well, no. But, that's kinda different."

"How? You two at least have a history, and a child. I just met Mark." One red eyebrow arched, as she bit back the smile threatening to expand at her friend's expense.

"Well, ah, it just is," she stammered. They stared at each other for a moment, before erupting into a spurt of giggles. "We have kissed though. A lot."

"So have Mark and I." Willow leaned closer, so they could compare without the threat of being overheard.

"Oh, god. What was it like?"

"Tingles right down to the toes."

"And flip flops of the stomach."

"Oh, yeah. Heart speeding up."

"Blood singing."

"Trying to get so close you're almost inside of him."

"And still, that's not close enough." Anne sat back with a sigh. "And that's just with your clothes ON."

"Yeah." They both sighed this time, lost in thought again. Suddenly, Willow turned serious once more. "I'm sorry about Angel."

"I've been over him a long time now, Will. But thank you. It was hard, for a while. But, once I found out I was pregnant, wallowing wasn't an option." She traced a finger in circles on the table, a sad look haunting her eyes.

"I guess not. Were you sorry that it wasn't Angel's?" Willow asked quietly. Anne thought for a long moment, trying to find the words.

"I think at first I was. But, that day with Spike was so special. So different from anything I had ever experienced before. Plus Angel was gone, and I wouldn't have had even the thin hope that he would know his child. At least with Spike, I knew he was still out there somewhere."

"And now, he's here," Willow finished for her.

"Yeah, now he's here. He's all I think about Willow. You should have seen him with Matt, so sweet. It almost broke my heart. I never should have left L.A. It was my fault they lost all that time." She reached up and wiped a stray tear away. The witch reached across the table and took her hand, offering comfort she hadn't been allowed to give before.

"Why did you?" Anne sighed, and recounted the tale once more, almost laughing at the expressions that crossed Willow's face.

"He said that?" Green eyes flashed black for a second, startling Anne. "Why. . .I'll turn him into a toad. How could he? God, he's just so stupid." Willow cried, her mind conjuring up all sorts of nasty things to do to Xander.

"Willow, it's alright. . ."

"No, it's not. He practically called you a whore, then told you to," she dropped her voice to a whisper, "have an abortion just so you wouldn't have to bear the shame of carrying a vampire's baby. Humph. I can't believe how insensitive he can be." She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, eyes snapping with indignation. She really didn't understand how he could have grown up with a girl for a best friend and be such a neanderthal.

"It was my own fear that sent me out of L.A., Will. I figured if Xander reacted like that, how would the rest of you? Especially since the baby WAS Spike's. I was wrong. It wasted four years of precious time that could have been spent with Matt knowing his father."

"And what about you? Is that all you want Spike for? A father for Matt?" Willow asked, quietly.

"No, that's not all. I want him." She finally admitted out loud to someone other than herself. Willow smiled at the look of awe on her friend's face. "When we're together, it's like everything falls into place."

"Are you in love with him?" That was the million dollar question, wasn't it?

"I don't know. I'll tell you, when I saw him in the Glamour Factory, it was like this magnet pulled me to him. And, it's been like that every time we see each other. He's all I think about. All I dream about." Anne snickered and shook her head. "I just don't know." The redhead smiled at her friend's confusion, already knowing the truth herself. It was the same way she felt about Mark, and that comparison scared the crap out of her. Deciding a change of subject was in order, she took a deep breath.

"What's the Glamour Factory?"

"The strip club where I worked." Anne fell out in a mass of giggles at the look on Willow's face.

"Strip. . .club? Guess Xander's lead wasn't wrong after all." She stammered, taking a long swallow of her cold coffee.

"What lead?" She asked, giggling again, imaging the look on Xander's face.

"Some girl in the drug store said that a girl that looked like you worked there. I guess she wasn't wrong."

"Must've been Leslie. That cow," Anne sniffed. "She comes in on Mondays trying to get a piece of Mark. She won't take the hint that he's not interested."

"Maybe I'll turn HER into a toad," Willow mumbled.

"Ooh. The little green monster rears its head." They both snorted, grins still on their faces when Mark walked back in.

"And what could possibly be so funny as to have the two most beautiful women in the world smiling like that?" Anne rolled her eyes, liking the way her friend flushed prettily at the compliment.

"You silver-tongued devil. Your grandmother been teaching you how to butter up pretty girls again?"

"Nah, she gave up on me years ago," he said, putting his cup in the sink. "I gotta head out. Missed work last night, so Ralph wants me to come in at one." The black look that crossed his face let them know just what he thought of that. But, silly little things like rent demanded to be paid. Anne watched the pair steal glances at each other before heaving an exaggerated sigh and getting up.

"I'm going to go check on Matt," she said, leaving the kitchen, her chuckle ringing out behind her. The two left in the kitchen stared at each other. Willow felt a nervous flush stain her face as he pushed away from the counter. She briefly wondered if he was ever nervous as he gently cupped her cheek and tilted her face up. She sighed as his lips brushed over hers.

"Not very subtle, am I?"

"No. But that's okay. I'm glad you came by." She said, lightly dragging her teeth over her lip.

"Good," he said, straightening. "There's a Carnival in town next week, want to go?" She nodded, her smile blooming wide. "Great. I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'd like that." Willow was finally used to the heart trip that occurred every time he smiled, but she hoped she never got used to the flare of desire that happened when he looked at her in just the way he was now. Head tilted to the side, lips slightly curved, brown eyes nearly black. She felt dizzy every time he did it, and she so didn't want to lose that feeling.

"Goodbye, Willow," he said, kissing her again. God, she loved a guy who liked kissing, she decided.

"Bye." She watched him leave the kitchen, that silly smile returning.

"Annie, I'll call you tomorrow," he called on his way out.

"Alright. Bye Mark," she called back, her farewell followed by Matt's.

"Bye, Matt. Be good." Then, he was gone.

Anne returned to the kitchen a few seconds later, Matt in tow. She felt happiness bloom in her chest at the look on Willow's face. Awww, sprang to mind again, and she decided to leave Mark alone the next time she saw him, and not tease him mercilessly the way he deserved.

"Hey, want some lunch? The little monster behind me claims he's starving." Matt frowned at the description.

"I'm not a li'l monsta, Mommy. I'm a BIG monsta. GRRR!" He curled his hands and scrunched up his face. Anne shivered in mock terror, squealing as he lunged at her.

"Oh, no. Help me, Willow, help me." Willow got up to join the game, and laughter filled the house.

~*~*~

About a half hour after sunset, Spike knocked once more on Anne's door. He still had some lingering doubts about himself and this family thing, but when Anne opened the door, her smile huge, he pushed them away. Then, Matt got up from his place on the floor with Willow, and ran to his father. Willow covertly inspected his face, glad to see that no evidence of the fight the night before was evident.

"DADDY!" He squeaked, laughing when he was scooped up and spun around.

"Hello, poppet. Miss me?"

"Yeah, Daddy. We're gonna watch movies." He looked over at Anne, giving in and leaning over to kiss her. She returned it happily, giggling at the look of eww that crossed their son's face.

"Movies, huh. Got room for one more?"

"Sure do. I was just getting ready to order dinner. I have something special for you," she said. "A little liquid nourishment," she prompted at his confused look. Realization dawned across his face, making her smile at the astonishment she saw there.

"Thanks, kitten." Clearing his throat, he shifted Matt until he was holding him more comfortably. "Where you ordering from?"

"Pizza," she answered, moving towards the kitchen.

"No anchovies," he called behind her, dropping Matt on the couch so he could take off his duster. "Hey, Red."

"Hi, Spike. You do realize it's like, a hundred degrees out there?" She asked, eyeing the duster. He chuckled at her.

"Yeah. Temperature changes don't bother me."

"I know that, but shouldn't you at least TRY to blend in?" she asked. She grinned when Matt scrambled back into Spike's arms. He was so good with him, she thought. In just these few short minutes she had seen them together, she could tell. Adoration flowed between them.

"Hey, I dare to be different." Willow rolled her eyes and continued with the card trick she had been showing Matt. The little boy's eyes widened when she pulled the card he had picked out of the middle of the deck.

"Wow. How'd ya do that?"

"It's magic," she whispered mysteriously. He giggled at her tone, liking the pretty redhaired lady.

"Well, pizza's on the way, no anchovies," Anne said, walking back into the living room and sitting next to Spike, drawing her legs up onto the couch.

"So, what're we watching this fine evening?"

"Oh, we're having a triple showing. Scooby Doo and the Alien Invaders, Scooby Doo's Greatest Mysteries, and Pokemon the Movie." To Spike's credit, he kept the groan from escaping.

"What is it with you lot and Scooby?" He muttered, easing his body down further until his shoulder was brushing Anne's.

"I like Scooby, Daddy." Matt looked a little hurt at Spike's question.

"Yeah? I never would have guessed," he replied, eyeing the pj's he was wearing. "Well then, let's get this cinematic adventure started, shall we?" He said, grinning. Willow stood and moved to the chair, kicking her legs over the side. Anne picked up the remote and hit play, then rested her head against Spike's shoulder. Matt squirmed until he was sprawled half on Spike's lap and half on his mother's, leaning his cheek on his father's thigh. Spike settled back, draping an arm around Anne and running a hand over his son's dark head. Sighing contentedly, he thought that unlife didn't get much better than this.

 

**Chapter 12**

Xander sat alone in his dark hotel room, a bottle of whiskey held loosely in his hand. His face hurt, his abdomen was sore. He could only open one eye without pain, and he hadn't eaten anything since before his ill planned attack on Spike. He was miserable, hurt, and well on his way to being drunk. Jealousy was working its will through him, making him crazy. He ran a hand through his dark hair, countering the pain that caused by taking another swig from the bottle. Grimacing as the bitter liquid poured down his throat, he fought back the tears that stung his eyes.

He had been so sure that finding Buffy had been the right thing to do. He wanted to apologize for the things he had said to her. She'd had enough to deal with, without him being such a jerk. But, whenever it came to the vampires that she had let into her life, he got a chronic case of foot in mouth disease. Angel, well, at least he'd had a soul. Didn't make him any less undead, but it gave him a conscience. Then, there was Spike. One of the most vicious vampires of the last century, who didn't have the benefit of a soul. Who she also had a child with. And now, she wouldn't see Xander, but she was playing family with the evil undead.

Willow. . .Willow was pissed at him. He begrudgingly allowed that she had a reason. She had been his friend forever, and now he was doing a good job of fucking it up. He hadn't meant to make her attraction to Mark seem sordid, but he was upset. No excuse, but true. She had tried to talk to him this morning, but he had refused to open the door, still angry with her for her defense of the vampire, and her lack of defense of him with Mark and Spike.

The more Xander thought about it, the more he got pissed. When exactly had he become the bad guy? When did the tables turn between him and Spike?

Sighing, Xander knew when. The second he had lied about the spell. Nobody had forgiven him for that little stunt. Not Joyce, not Willow, not Giles. He had betrayed her trust, all because of how much he hated Angel. And he did hate the souled flip-side of Angelus, as much as Angelus himself. For tempting Buffy, making her forget her calling as far as he was concerned. Now that forgetfulness extended to his childe.

Tilting the bottle back once more, he thought he should do something to make her see that Spike was still as evil as ever. He'd never believe the vampire could change. He didn't have a soul, a conscience. As far as Xander was concerned, there was nothing redeemable about him. Why should HE get the girl, and the kid?

No, something had to be done. And soon.

~*~*~

Anne smiled as she opened the door, seeing Spike on the other side. But, even through her smile, he could see a bit of annoyance.

"What's the matter?" he asked, coming in and closing the door.

"Me and Willow were going to go out for a girl's night out, but Molly can't come over. Almost as soon as you got me fired," she said with a glare. He had the decency to look sheepish. "She got another job."

"I'll stay with him," he said, a flash of hurt crossing his face that she hadn't thought to ask him. Especially after the night before. Somewhere in the middle of the second movie, Matt had fallen asleep across his parent's laps. Spike had gathered him up, tucking him into bed, and just staring at him for a few minutes. When Anne had come looking for him, she had stood watching him watch his son, a look of pure happiness on her face. Then, after Willow had left, they had spent quite a bit of time snogging on the couch like teenagers. He had thought that she trusted him.

"Are you sure?" As soon as the words fell from her mouth, she wished she could pull them back. A scowl twisted his features, and his eyes turned icy.

"Don't be daft," was all he would allow himself to say. Anything more would result in a fight of apocalyptic proportions.

"I'm sorry," she said, stepping closer to him. He jerked a little when she touched his arm. Sighing, she raised her hand to cup his cheek. "I'm still getting used to this whole other parent around thing. I'm sorry I didn't think of you first." His face softened as he looked down at her, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

"Alright, luv." Her mouth bloomed into a smile, and he leaned down to kiss it. Her thumb stroked his cheek as his lips sipped on hers. Delicious tremors raced down her spine and she struggled to remember WHY they were waiting.

"Daddy!" a tiny voice squealed, causing them to groan with still unfulfilled desire.

"Hello, bit. Feeling up to a night with your dad?" Spike asked, running a hand over Matt's head.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Mum's going out for a while, so it's just us boys."

"Okay. Can we make pawcorn?" Matt asked, blue eyes hopeful. Spike glanced at Anne before answering. She gave a slight nod.

"Sure."

"Yay!" Matt threw his arms around Spike's leg in a quick hug then tore off down the hall. "Be back!" he cried. Anne and Spike watched him go with amused smiles.

"Don't let him try to get anything over on you. He always does with Mark." She was still looking down the hall, and missed his body go ridged at the mention of Mark's involvement in his son's life. By the time she turned to him, he had relaxed.

"We'll be fine," he assured, reaching out to pull her to him. "Hurry back," he whispered, leaning in to feast from her mouth again. "We have unfinished business."

"Spike," she breathed between sweeps of his mouth.

"Sh, kitten. Don't think. Just feel," Spike drawled. "You can feel how right this is." He closed his mouth fully over hers, his tongue sliding in to posses hers. She clutched desperately at his leather clad shoulders, her senses on overload. When he pulled back, he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose, releasing her when Matt barrelled back into the room. The smell of her arousal wafted to him, and a sensual smile curled his lip. "Have a good time, pet."

"Yeah, bye Mommy," Matt said, smiling up at her. Anne stared blankly at them for a minute. Then, she mentally shook herself back to reality.

"Geez, here's your hat, what's your hurry, huh?" she said with a laugh. "Alright, I shouldn't be late. Bedtime's nine tonight, young man," she said firmly. He scowled in perfect imitation of Spike. She bit back a laugh and leaned down to kiss him. "Be good for Daddy," she whispered. "He's new at this." He giggled, and hugged her, placing a wet kiss on her cheek.

"Okay, Mommy." She stood and looked at Spike, kissing him goodbye as well.

"You be good, too."

"Oh, I'll be very good," he purred, his meaning not lost on her. She felt her skin heat up, and the fresh wave of desire washed over her.

"Jerk," she muttered when he grinned. "Be back in awhile," she said, turning to leave, cursing the sexy vampire.

"So, what first?" Spike asked when the door closed behind her.

"Pawcorn, pawcorn!" Matt cried, jumping up and down.

"Right, then, popcorn it is. Why don't you come show your dad where everything is." Matt's eyes brightened at the opportunity to help.

"Okay, C'mon." He dashed into the kitchen, a chuckling Spike following him after he shook off his duster.

~*~*~

Mark's boots echoed in the quiet night as he climbed the steps to Anne's house. He knew she wasn't home, he had called Willow earlier, and learned that the two women were going out for a night on the town. He decided to use the opportunity to have a little chit chat with Spike. He didn't feel any jealousy over the re-emergence of the vampire. Quite, the contrary, he was happy that Anne was getting her family like she had always wanted. And, Willow was enough to distract him from any romantic feelings he had still been harboring for the tiny woman.

The thought of the redhead brought a smile to his face, and he wished again that they could have seen each other tonight. She was amazing. Smart and funny, with the cutest habit of blushing when she got flustered. She was powerful, yet still shy. He wanted her like he had never wanted another woman, even Anne.

Shaking off the thoughts of the tiny witch, he raised his hand to knock, only to drop it in surprise when the door swung open, revealing a very suspicious Spike.

"What're you doing here?" he asked without preamble.

"Just stopped by," Mark answered, tilting his head to the side. The two men sized each other up, until Matt took notice of his Uncle's presence. Looking freshly bathed and happy, he looked up at the Indian with wide, blue eyes.

"Unca Mark. Mommy went out. Daddy stayin' wif me," Matt exclaimed, proudly. Mark smiled down at the boy, holding his arms out. Matt immediately launched into them. Out of the corner of his eye, the brunette saw Spike stiffen at the way his son acted towards him. "I know Mommy went out. I came to talk to your father." Spike's eyes narrowed into slits, and he stepped away from the door to let Mark and his son back into the house. Mark set Matt back onto his feet, and ran a hand over his damp curls.

"Daddy says it's time for bed," Matt said with a pout, slipping his eyes between his father and uncle, thinking that now he had an ally.

"Well, then, you should listen." Despite himself, Spike's lips quirked. Matt had obviously been expecting Mark to help him out, and by his crestfallen expression, had been foiled.

"Come on, poppet. Your Mum said nine, it's already nine thirty. I'm risking being dusted as we speak," Spike said, scooping Matt off his feet.

"She won't dus' you, Daddy."

"And why not?"

"Cause she likes you too much." Spike grinned at the basic logic of his child.

"Well, that's good. Say goodnight to Mark."

"G'night, Unca Mark." Matt said with a wave as Spike started carrying him down the hall.

"Make yourself at home." You already have for the last four years, he added bitterly to himself. Mark took a deep breath and went into the kitchen to look for the beer Anne usually kept for him. When Spike returned a few minutes later, Mark was sitting on the couch, cigarette smoldering in the hand tapping against his knee, beer sitting on the coffee table in front of him. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, and he looked thoroughly at ease in Anne's home. Ignoring him for the moment, Spike went into he kitchen and got his own beer, then went back and flopped into the easy chair, reaching into the pocket of his red shirt for his own cigarettes. They both sat, silently smoking, contemplating the other man in the room.

"You hurt her," Mark finally said, leaning forward to stab out his smoke. Spike studied the tip of his, then turned his blue eyed gaze to the almost black one of Mark.

"I know," he replied, not feeling the need to go further into it.

"She didn't think you were going to come back, no matter what she told Matt. I could see it, in her eyes. You left her," Mark persisted, his tone accusatory.

"Didn't think I had a choice. Me vampire, her Slayer. S'not exactly destined for happiness. Not to mention we had both just watched the one's we loved get sucked into Hell. Not a good thing to base a relationship on," Spike shot back, taking a long swallow of his beer. "Didn't know I was missin' her until I found myself back in Sunnydale," he said, almost to himself. "Then, it was too late. She was already gone."

"Don't hurt her again." Mark's voice wasn't threatening, it wasn't pitched anyway that could have been assumed as such. It just held a thread of promise of what might happen if Spike did just that. The scarred eyebrow shot up, the crystal blue eyes flashed yellow with a brief shot of anger. Mark just returned his stare, calmly, elbows resting against his knees.

"I don't plan to. But that's between Buffy and me," Spike growled, leaning forward himself to put out the forgotten cigarette.

"She's been my business for a little over four years now. I won't see her hurt. Or Matt." Spike surged to his feet, game face forward. The low warning growl sounding in his chest reverberated around the room.

"They are mine!," he snarled, somehow remembering to keep his voice low so as not to disturb Matt. Mark also rose to his feet, towering over the blonde vamp. They were similar in build, their height the only difference.

"I'm not trying to take your claim on them. I'm just letting you know, that I don't care WHO you are, I don't care WHAT you are. You hurt them, in ANY way, and you will have to deal with me." His voice was low and dangerous, his eyes blazing. Spike almost smirked, ready to remind him that no matter how Mark made his living, he wasn't some redneck cowpoke that couldn't handle his liquor. But, something about the younger man's character made him pause. These weren't words spoken out of prejudice or hate. They were spoken out of love for the woman and the child. Spike suddenly found himself very glad that Buffy and Matt had this man beside them for so long. Sighing heavily, he shook off the demon visage, as well as the jealousy he had been carrying around.

"Fair enough," he acquiesced, settling back down in the chair. Mark blinked, surprised that he had backed down so quickly, knowing that something had just changed between them, but not sure what. He sat down himself, grabbing the bottle he had placed on the coffee table and taking a drink. "Wanna watch some telly?" Spike asked, grabbing the remote.

"Sure." And with that, they settled back to watch some movie full of car chases and explosions, waiting for their women to come home.

~*~*~

About an hour later, Anne stumbled through the door, giggling at like a mad woman. It only got worse when she looked up to see the slightly shocked eyes of the men. She sat down hard in the still open doorway, her laughter raising in volume.

"Sh, pet, You'll wake up bit," Spike admonished. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her giggles reduced to huffs.

"You had better have taken a cab home," Mark warned lightly, getting up to leave. "I assume Willow's not much better." Tears of mirth ran down Anne's cheeks as she shook her head. He shook his head and made a mental note to call the redhead bright and early tomorrow. With a wicked grin, and a half salute to Spike he stepped over Anne and left.

"Bye Mark," she said in a loud whisper, nearly falling over as she leaned out the door. Spike walked over to her, an amused smirk on his face.

"Alright, pet. I think it's time for beddy bye," he crooned, pulling her to her unsteady feet and closing the door.

"Ooh, what a good idea. You naughty vampire you," she slurred, wrapping her arms sloppily around his neck. In search of a quieter way to get her to her room, he swung her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. The scent of her arousal hit him, and he had to bite back a groan. "I've been thinking about you aaaallll night," she mumbled, as her drunk, yet nimble fingers went to work on the shirt.

"Pet, let's not do this now," he said, trying to hurry down the short hall to the other bedroom. He nearly stumbled when he felt her hot, wet mouth latch onto his nipple. "Jesus," he hissed, the feel of her rough tongue on his skin having the reaction she was seeking. Her nails trailed lightly over the other one, causing him, the Big Bad, to whimper. He pushed the door to her room open, and kicked it closed, thankful it didn't slam when it shut. "Buffy, stop," he ground out.

"Why? Don't you want me?," she asked, petulantly. Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout, and she scowled at him.

"That's not the point, kitten. You're drunk." He dumped her on the bed, not prepared for how quick she could move in her inebriated state. Before he knew it, he was pinned on the bed, a very warm, very willing Slayer straddling his hips and nibbling along his jawline. He groaned, deep in his throat at her actions, and the feel of her heat pressed against his erection.

"I might be drunk, but I know what I want," she told him in a sing-song voice. The vibrations of her lips against his skin nearly had him popping right then. She looked up at him, pout firmly in place. "I'm tired of waiting," she sounded so much like Matt then, he nearly laughed out loud. But, when her hand shimmied between their bodies, and cupped him through the denim, all thoughts of laughing were erased. His hands gripped her hips, nearly bruising them.

"Oh, God, Buffy," he moaned. She gave him a feral smile, and ground her hips against her hand, caressing them both at the same time. Her jean skirt had ridden up, exposing the soft expanse of her thighs. Her heat was pressed tight against her hand, her clit throbbing with the contact.

"Mmmm," she purred, sliding that hand over them both. "I want you to fuck me Spike." His eyes widened at the bluntness of her words, and the feel of what she was doing to both of them with her tiny hand. "I want to feel you, so deep inside of me." She practically came just saying it, the dazed look of drunkenness quickly replaced by the haze of desire. "I want your hands on me, your mouth, your tongue. Every part of you." Her mouth had wandered back to his jaw, nipping and licking her way to his throat. Spike lay helpless beneath her, his body humming with want. All thought of putting her off fled when she bit hard on his throat. His growl made her shiver with anticipation, knowing she had him.

Suddenly, she found herself flipped and pinned beneath him, the swift action causing her vision to swim. She giggled at the sensation, only to have it change to a gasp when his mouth crashed over hers. His tongue pushed in to claim her, as his hips surged forward to grind his hard shaft into her hot center. Teeth, lips and tongue battled, vying for dominance in a battle neither wanted to win. She wrapped her legs around his lean waist, pressing him closer, her hands sliding over his back and shoulders, finally settling to fist in his hair. Spike's hands pulled her white, button down tank top out of the band of her skirt, his cool fingers gliding beneath to tease her skin. He pulled his mouth away from hers, to return the favor of grazing her jaw with his teeth. She writhed beneath him, wanting to feel him, not the clothes. Her fingers plucked uselessly against the smooth material of his shirt, urging him to take it off. He pulled away long enough to do just that, then reached down to unbutton hers. His mouth began to water when he saw her unbound breasts, and he lowered his head to capture one pert tip in his cool mouth.

"Oh, yeessss," she breathed, hooking her fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, forcing him harder against her. She arched her back, begging him to feast. He sucked hard on her nipple, and she squealed in delight. His hands slid under her skirt, ripping her excuse for underwear away. The only thing between them now was his jeans, and she reached between them once more to fumble with the button fly.

He trailed his tongue across the valley of her breasts, to give equal attention to the other soft mound, brushing her probing fingers away from his jeans, so he could do it himself. When she felt the tip brush against her opening, she whimpered, hips pushing up to invite him in. She felt like she would explode any moment, if he didn't quit playing around and get inside of her. When he still hesitated, his thoughts seemingly fixated on her breasts, she whispered hoarsely in his ear.

"Spike, please, now. It's been so long. I need you." He pulled up to look at her, the midnight of his eyes burning her. She felt his body trembling under her hands, realizing how close to losing control he was. Then, inch by agonizing inch, he pushed into her, pausing so they could both adjust. She was practically panting with how good it felt to have his icy shaft stretching her, filling her. Her eyes rolled back and mewling noises mixed with the sound of her breathing.

Spike watched her writhe and pant beneath him, the feel of her heat enveloping him, burning him, making him shake even harder. He'd dreamed of her for so long, had wanted her for so long. And here she was, every ounce of his passion being returned. When he was fully buried, he paused, trying desperately to control himself. But, Anne wouldn't have it. Almost violently, she thrust up, and squeezed he inner muscles, starting to milk him whether he was ready or not. Giving in to her urging, he pulled back until he was almost out of her, then thrust back in hard. Her groan of pleasure spurred him on, and he gripped her butt, holding her up so he could push deeper, harder. Each thrust brought his pelvic bone in contact with her clit, sending electric shocks coursing over her and making her throb. "So fucking hot," he hissed, speeding his already frenzied movements to match hers. She returned every thrust with abandon, wanting the release that hovered just out of reach. Spike buried his face in her throat, knowing he was close, but she wasn't. With a sound between a curse and a roar, he came, shuddering at the intensity. Her hips continued to pump, still seeking her own oblivion. As the last tremor passed through his body, he lifted his head.

"Sorry, pet. It's just been too long," he whispered, claiming her mouth once more. Wanting to give her pleasure, he pulled out of her, and pulled his mouth away from hers, skimming it down her sweat slicked body with his mouth, until he reached her dripping sex. She surged off the bed at the first swipe of his tongue across her sizzling heat, their combined tastes causing his cock to surge back to life. Her fingers dove into his hair, pressing him closer as he sipped from her, and she ground her hips against his face. He greedily drank all she had to offer, wanting more. Sliding his tongue up her slit, he curled it around her clit, using stiff strokes to make her cry out. Harder and faster he did this, holding her to him as she exploded in his mouth. She was practically sobbing when her orgasm crashed over her, and she pressed his face tightly against her, her body shaking with aftershocks.

Pulling her hands away from his head, he moved over her again, sliding into her effortlessly. They rocked together in unison, hands fisting together as their mouths attacked each other once more. Harder, faster they moved, their cries of ecstasy lost in the kiss. Anne arched against him as she came again, every muscle stretched and tense, her core tightening around him. Once, twice, three times he slammed into her, the final time he pushed as far as could, his seed splashing through her inner walls to her womb. Pulling away from her mouth, he buried his face in her hair, and panted heavily against her throat. Her fingers skimmed lightly over his back. A contented sigh slipping from her lips.

"I'm glad you're not hard to convince," she said, giggling. He nipped lightly at her throat, causing her to giggle louder.

"Yeah, well, you practically raped me," he teased. She snorted in response.

"Can't rape the willing," she told him. He chuckled at that, stopping when he noticed the evil gleam in her eye.

"What are you about, kitten?" With a snicker, she switched their positions, his once against hard shaft buried deep. He gripped her hips to steady her, and he looked up at the goddess rising above him.

"I wanna play cowgirl," she said with a silly grin, rocking her hips experimentally, causing them both to moan. This new position thrust him even deeper and she loved it. Running her hands over her own breasts, she did it again, delighting in the growl he let loose.

"Cor, Buffy. Are you trying to kill me?" He gasped, surging up to meet her.

"You're already dead," she said saucily. Then, she began to ride him in earnest. As they flew over the edge again, they fastened their mouths together, instinctively remembering the small child sleeping just across the hall. When the tremors subsided, Spike grabbed the edge of the quilt, and threw it over their still joined forms, and ran his hands lovingly over her back, smiling when he heard her breathing deepen.

"Goodnight, kitten," he purred, brushing a kiss across her temple. A part of him knew he should get up and close the curtains, so she didn't wake up next to a pile of dust, but he couldn't seem to convince himself to move. Praying to whatever deity looked out for creatures like him, he clutched his precious bundle closer, and followed her into sleep.

**Chapter 13**

  
Anne came awake just as the pre-dawn sun started to filter in through the window. Disentangling herself with little grace from Spike's arms, she hurried as quickly as her pounding head would allow to pull the curtains safely closed. With a sigh of relief, she turned back towards the bed, then choked back a giggle, which turned into a groan of pain from her head. Spike laid sprawled out on the bed, jeans around his knees, and his red shirt splayed open around him. Crossing her arms over her chest and enjoying the view, she remembered her own state and glanced down at herself with a grimace. She was only wearing her jean skirt, and it was pushed high over her hips. She was glad that Spike had the presence of mind to shut the door, or else Matt might've had the shock of his young life stumbling into the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Trying hard not to groan again, she moved towards the dresser. Opening a drawer, she dug aimlessly through the contents, stopping when she saw it. She brushed her fingers over the soft black cotton of the long forgotten friend, and smiled. Pulling it out, she gave it a good shake, and slipped it over her head. She had worn his t-shirt all through her pregnancy, and for the first year of Matt's life, usually to sleep in. Then, one day, she folded it up and put it away, much like a child puts away his security blanket. She hadn't thought she needed it anymore, the pain of losing Angel, and the aloneness she felt after Spike left had decreased with the birth of Matt. The older he got, the less she wore it, until the day she tucked it into the bottom of her dresser, never to be worn again.

She realized now, as she looked back at the sleeping figure of the vampire, that she would always need it. Need him. With another smile, she dropped her skirt to the floor, and went in search of a fresh pair of panties. Relishing the sticky soreness between her legs, she slipped the plain cotton thong over her legs. A sharp wave of arousal sliced through her as memories of the night before flashed through her brain.

She and Willow had gone to the bar that Mark had played, and then proceeded to drink themselves silly, laughing and giggling like school girls the whole way. She had regaled Willow with the one and only time she had seen Mark naked (by accident of course). He had given her a key, not telling her that he had a habit of sleeping nude. She had gone in to wake him and found that he had kicked the blankets off. She hadn't been able to look him in the eye for a week. And Willow'd had her practically rolling on the floor with her tales of Xander's attempts to woo the new Slayer.

Then, when they realized they were both too drunk to drive Anne's car, they'd shared a cab to get home. One look at Spike when she had walked through the door, or stumbled rather, she'd had to have him. Nothing was going to stop her, and she was just glad that he hadn't protested too much. It was better than she remembered. Maybe because it was done out of want instead of grief. That one day had branded them, made them the other's, whether they wanted to admit it or not. There was no life for her without him and Matt. The thought of losing either of them made her head swim, and her stomach turn dangerously. She couldn't help wondering if he felt the same.

Walking slowly towards the bed, she let the desire overtake her again, washing away the sickness that had threatened with that last, terrifying thought. Moving as carefully as she could, she knelt down to unlace his boots, gingerly divesting him of the bottom half of his clothes. He didn't stir while she did this, and the inane thought that he slept like the dead slid through her mind. Stifling the giggle that caused, she moved with the grace of a predator onto the bed, her eyes trained on the thick shaft resting against his thigh. She gently ran her fingertips through the coarse curls at the base, her eyes widening when he jerked. She looked up at him, and found herself pinned by the blue, swirling depths of his eyes. She could almost see forever in those eyes, and the way he was looking at her right now, like she was the only being on the planet, almost made her whimper. Everything was in those eyes, everything he thought, felt. William was in those eyes, forever laid out for the world to see if they just took a minute to look.

She kept her gaze locked with his, fascinated by the subtle darkening that occurred when she ran the tips of her fingers over the velvety soft skin of his now hard shaft. Still keeping eye contact, she fisted her hand around it, while bending over and barely sweeping her tongue over the tip. He hissed in unneeded air at the ghostly feel of her warm, wet tongue on his cool flesh. Blowing ever so lightly on the tip, she watched as those brilliant eyes changed to the dark blue of midnight. Her teeth nipped him next, and he nearly reared off the bed, eyes flashing yellow and a low growl rumbled in his chest. A smile of pure feminine delight curled her lips, and she experimentally flicked her tongue over the slit, tasting the salty pre-cum that had pooled there.

"Jesus, Buffy," he gasped, his voice hoarse, his accent thick. Anne felt a rush of pleasure flow through her at his whispered words. She felt powerful, and in control, with him at her mercy. He made no move to stop her, or encourage her to do more. Just kept watching her with those bottomless eyes that saw straight to her soul, his unneeded breathing shallow.

"What do you want, Spike?" she whispered back, the dampness in her panties growing by the second. Another swipe of her tongue made the growl turn louder, and his hips surge up, begging. "What?"

"Please, pet," Spike purred, feeling like he would die again if he didn't feel her mouth on him, surrounding him, right now. The contrast of her heat against his cool length was driving him insane, and he needed to feel it all. The sight of her in one of his shirts moving him.

"Please what?" She continued to play with him, barely touching him with her tongue, brushing her lips against the shaft with whispered touches. Her hot, tiny hand surrounded him, holding him where she wanted. All the while, their eyes remained locked, as if the spell around them would be broken if they looked away.

"Take it in, kitten. I want to feel your mouth around me," he gasped, coming the closest to begging he ever had in his unlife. She pulled back slightly, studying his face, the harsh planes of his cheeks, the smooth line of his jaw, the high slope of his forehead. Then, a wicked smile spread over her face, making him shiver with the felineness of it. He sighed in relief than nearly choked with pleasure when she finally eased her mouth over him. He finally closed his eyes, his head thrown back as she slid her tongue over the satiny skin of his pulsating member. It was amazing to her, that life could flow from this supposedly dead body. The doctor could never determine what had caused her pregnancy, finally deciding that Slayer and vampire physiology were just compatable. She had forbade Giles from looking for prophecies when she had finally called her mother and told her about her grandchild.

A thought struck her then. What if they had done it again? Neither had even thought about birth control the night before, and here they were getting ready to go again. What if they created another child?

An almost giddy feeling enveloped her then, and she sucked hard on him, her moan answering his. She ran her tongue over the underside of his shaft, just under the tip, making him writhe in ecstasy. His fingers convulsed in the quilt, and his legs were moving restlessly over the bed. She slid him all the way into her mouth, her tongue laving his skin as she went. When she felt him hit the back of her throat, she pulled back, allowing him to almost slip from her mouth, before doing it again.

Spike was sure he was dangerously close to exploding, her hot mouth and tongue burning him. Wave after wave of heat and want hit him, making him dizzy as she continued to devour him like he was her favorite treat. When she moaned again, the vibrating of her throat against him made his sac start to tighten, and he knew he was close.

"Buffy. . ." he tried to warn her, but his voice was lost when she did it again, sucking him so hard her cheeks hollowed out. He arched off the bed as he started to pulse in her mouth, her throat convulsing around him as she swallowed every shot of his cold semen. He growled loudly as the tremors rolled over him, and he saw stars burst behind his eyelids as he slowly came down. When she finally let him slip from her mouth, he reached blindly for her, dragging her up his body to claim her mouth with his, his tongue sliding in to taste the salty taste of his spendings. One hand fisted in her hair as the other sought out her heat, sliding past her panties and pushing two fingers deep inside. She gasped in his mouth, her hips rocking against his hand, pushing his probing fingers deeper still. His thumb circled her clit, turning her moans into mewls as the sensation built in her abdomen, slowly unfurling to explode brightly through her. Her scream was lost in his kiss, as she bucked wildly, her inner muscles clamping hard over his fingers.

While she was still riding the waves of her orgasm, he flipped them, managing to shrug out of his shirt. The kiss never ended, the constant thrust and retreat of their tongues in time with his thrust into her core. Whimpers and moans filled the room, a sensual music for their bodies to dance to. One strong hand gripped her thigh, pulling it up so he could push deeper, the tip of his shaft hitting her inner sweet spot, just as his pelvic bone hit her clit. She nearly sobbed as her second orgasm crashed over her, and she ripped her mouth from his to bury her teeth in his neck, trying to keep her scream inside. The feel of her blunt teeth in his throat, and her heat ruthlessly squeezing him sent him careening after her, and he buried his lips against her throat, the feel of his fangs sending her into her most powerful climax.

They lay trembling in each other's arms, Spike's tongue lazily drawing patterns in the blood on her throat. She nibbled lightly on the teeth marks she'd left in his alabaster skin, soothing it with kisses. When those eyes sought hers out again, she felt herself drowning in them, an unnamed emotion swimming in their depths.

"I love you," he whispered. She felt joy bloom in her chest at his soft confession, the uncertainty in his eyes nearly breaking her heart. Raising a finger to trace over his scarred dark brow, she struggled for a moment to find her own voice, tears leaking from her eyes. He gently kissed them away, concern marring his brow.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, her words so choked with emotion that he almost had to struggle to hear her. Wonder and awe softened his face, making him seem so young. Their arms tightened around each other, faces buried in throats once more as they both trembled, the force of their admissions making them weak.

After a few moments, Spike felt calm enough to raise his head again, and look into the shiny depths of her hazel eyes.

"How long til Matt gets up?" Confusion drew her brows again as she craned her neck to look at the clock.

"About an hour," she said after she cleared her throat. Her breath hitched as he began to rock inside of her again, his blue eyes nearly black.

"Not nearly enough time for me to show you how much I love you. But, it's a start."

~*~*~

Mark raised his hand and knocked loudly on the door, snickering when he heard the mumbled curse on the other side. He crushed his cigarette out under his boot, and smiled wide when Willow opened the door, looking a tad worse for wear. She struggled to focus her eyes on him against the glare of the hot Arizona sun at his back, glaring at him for disturbing her from dying. The glare disappeared when he produced a large cup of coffee under her nose. She snatched it from him, then turned to walk back into the room, leaving him to follow. She didn't care about manners at the moment, her head hurt too bad. Chuckling, he walked inside, closing the door behind him to shut them in the dark interior of the room.

"Good morning," he said in a voice that was way too chipper for the hungover Willow. Grunting in response, she crawled back onto the bed, savoring the hot brew like it was ambrosia. "Somebody not feeling too well this morning?" She glared at him again, whimpering against the pain behind her eyes.

"Shut up," she growled. He pursed his lips to keep the laugh back, not feeling like being turned into something small and slimy.

"Looks like you need a little hair of the dog," he suggested, moving to sit next to her on the bed. She practically turned green.

"No, no hair of the dog. Drinking is bad. I should have learned my lesson the last time," she grumbled.

“What happened last time?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in question. Her pallor changed from pale to a bright crimson when she realized what she had let out. Yes, drinking was definitely bad.

"Nothing," she replied, most of her answer lost in the Styrofoam cup she held. One look at her told him it wasn't nothing.

"What, did you do something really embarrassing?" he goaded, reaching out to pull one tiny foot into his lap and running his thumb over the arch. She hummed in response.

"Sorta," she admitted, hoping to leave it at that.

"Oh, come on. You can tell me. I can assure you, I've done some crazy things in my twenty eight years. I don't judge," he said with a devilish twinkle in his eye.

"Trust me, you don't want to know this," Willow insisted, trying to concentrate on the feel of his hand on her foot, and not the hazy memories of the past.

"What, did you have indiscriminant sex? We all do. Not the most fun to be had, but, it happens." She blanched at that, wondering if Buffy had told him. That was a little too close to the truth. He looked up at her then, and noticed the look on her face. "Ah, that was is it." He grinned a little, delighted that there was a touch of bad girl lurking under her shy facade. He found himself imagining that liaison with him in the starring role with her, knowing full well that he wouldn't have been able to leave it at just once.

"Why do you want to know so bad?" She sounded harsher than she had meant, and his thumb stilled in its ministration.

"You don't have to tell me," he said, sounding a little hurt. Sighing in disgust, she cursed the fragility if male egos.

"Look, it was Xander. Not exactly something I like to admit. I had just gotten dumped, he was still hurting from Cordy leaving, and we got drunk. I don't remember much, other than waking up in the morning feeling like I had just slept with my brother. Not altogether a pleasant feeling," she snapped, trying to pull her foot out of his lap. He tightened his hand over her ankle, waiting for her to meet his eyes. When she finally did, he started to stroke the soft flesh of her ankle.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed," he said, sounding sincere. She felt her ire deflate, and offered him a tight smile.

"No, I'm sorry. It still kinda squicks me out, and I don't like to remember it so much," Willow told him. He smiled at that, running his hand higher up her leg. When she shivered, she became acutely aware that she was only dressed in a pair of old boxer shorts and a tank top. She had managed to change before falling into bed, and she had grabbed the first thing she could find. Heat coursed from the spot under his hand straight the very center of her. Her emerald eyes shot to his, and she saw the burning desire shining in their black depths.

"Mark," she began, finding her voice lost when his fingers grazed the inner side of her knee. He didn't say anything, just kept up the light strokes, venturing ever higher, idly wondering if she was going to stop him. She whimpered when he reached the bottom of her shorts, feeling her nipples pebble in response. She watched in fascination as he raised her leg, and brushed his lips across her ankle. "Ah" was all she could manage as his hand continued forward while his tongue darted out to taste her skin. She hadn't realized he had moved closer, her already cloudy mind becoming even more fuddled with his touch. When his searching fingers brushed against the cotton of her panties, her hips surged forward, desperately seeking his touch.

"Willow," he gasped, raising to one knee, and turning his long frame towards her. She was laying back against the pillow, her skin hot and cold at the same time, her heart galloping in her chest. This was it, she knew somewhere in her conscious. This was her decision. Did she tell him to stop and walk away, or did she take a chance, and allow him into her life? Staring up into the black pools of his eyes, she suddenly realized that she had never had a choice. He was everything.

"Mark, please. . .touch me," she breathed, sighing in relief when he did just that. Two long, guitar roughened fingers slipped past the barrier of cotton and plunged deep inside her tight, wet core. She cried out in pleasure as he stroked her, her entire body trembling as he brought her to a swift, long overdue orgasm. His name fell from her lips as she writhed helplessly against the bed. She cried out when he pulled his fingers away, only to hiss in a desperate breath when he quickly stripped her of her shorts and panties. Rearing up, she pulled her shirt over her head, exposing the creamy, rose tipped softness of her full breasts. He groaned in response, reaching one hand up to the collar of his shirt to pull it off. He stood to kick off his boots. She watched in avid interest as each inch of bronze skin was exposed. Hard planes, and long length defined him, from the tight muscled of his calves and thighs, over his flat, ridged stomach, to the well defined pecks. Her eyes widened when she finally allowed them to drift to the very obvious evidence of his want for her. Long and thick, she had a moments panic at whether or not she could take it. Then, his mouth was on hers and it didn't matter any more. She accepted him between her thighs, feeling as if they were made to fit together.

He was pressed against her, his lips feasting on hers, his tongue urgent and demanding. The tip of his shaft rested at the opening of her tight entrance, his hands claimed her breasts, teasing and pulling on the nipples until they peaked even tighter, sending pulses along her nerves, making her moan. Her fingers tangled in the long length of his hair, then coursed restlessly over his back, her hips grinding against him, begging him to take her. He tore his mouth away from hers, to stare deep into the dark emerald of her eyes, as he slowly began to enter her. Inch by agonizing inch he slid inside, allowing her to adjust to his girth, struggling not to just pound into her until they were both a quivering mass of nerve endings.

She arched into him, urging him to move quicker, fill her more. When he was finally buried to the hilt, he lowered his head to capture a dusky nipple in his mouth, laving it with his tongue and gently grazing it with his teeth. She rocked against him, her beautiful dark warrior, wanting to be with him, inside of him, filling him with the same incredible feeling he was filling her with. She brought her legs up and hooked them behind his back, thrusting up with her hips, telling him silently that she wasn't waiting anymore. He never ceased his feasting on her flesh, just moved to the other soft mound, while he began to move, his body taut with his fight for control. She was so tight, so hot, the taste of her skin so sweet. She ran her hands through his hair, and over his back, then up again, her body moving rhythmically beneath him, trying to race towards release. Responding to her urging, he pumped harder, faster, longer pushing them both closer and closer to the edge. She met him, thrust for thrust, soft moans and groans filling the air around them.

Suddenly, heat exploded around her, through her, and she keened long and high, his name almost like a prayer on her lips. With her moans echoing in his ears, and her body clenching around him, he roared against her skin, thrusting as far as he could, his shaft pulsing deep within her. They lay, wrapped around each other while the tremors ran their course, a peace like they had never felt before settling over them.

Raising his head to kiss her once more, he rolled them until she was sprawled against his chest, his already hardening cock still buried deep in her tiny body. She pulled away from him, and sat up, rising above him to take charge, feeling free and wild and desired. He sat back and let her control the depth and speed, his black eyes taking in her pale skin, the wild toss of her vivid hair, the deep green of her eyes. Bringing a hand between them, he stroked her clit through the russet curls at the apex of her thighs, relishing her cries of pleasure. His other hand steadied her as she began slamming against him harder, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy. She shuddered above him as she flew over the edge again, her inner muscles clenching hard around him, and sending him flying after her. Her name fell from his lips as he came inside of her, buried to the hilt.

Exhausted and sated for the moment, Willow slumped over his chest, her tiny body shaking as he wrapped her in his strong embrace.

After a few moments, his whispered question made her giggle.

"Hangover gone?"

 

**Chapter 14**

"Why are we here, Mommy?" Matt asked, watching his mother as she knocked on the door. He wanted to go home and see Daddy, not stop and talk to Willow.

"Because, honey, I need somebody to drive my car back to the house. And Mark's not home," she answered for what seemed like the millionth time. She stifled a yawn behind her fist, then knocked on the door again. "Come on, Will. If I've gotta be up, you gotta be up." Or maybe that's the problem, she thought with a giggle. She had seen Mark's car parked outside her room, and had jumped to the obvious conclusions. She didn't feel bad about interrupting them, either. Anne and Spike had managed to scramble into some clothes when they heard the small voice on the other side of the door that morning. Matt had been ecstatic when she had pulled it open, and he saw his father sitting on the edge of the bed, looking decidedly yummy to Anne, with his sleep tousled, white locks, and just his jeans on. He had launched at his father, erupting into a fit of giggles when he, then Anne, started to tickle him. He had then started to pout when he asked if his daddy could take him to school. They'd had to remind him that Daddy couldn't go out in the sun, but, since Mommy's car was still at the bar, he could ride to school in Daddy's big, black car. Matt had decided that that was cool, since Daddy's car had the nifty blacked out windows. Anne, however, didn't find it so nifty when she had to drive the tank to the school, her only means of seeing a small patch of glass the size of her forearm.

Once she had returned home, the day was spent with more love making. Anne was surprised that she could still walk at this point, and it was an uncomfortable chore. Then, she had picked Matt up and went to Willow's hotel hoping to get her to drive her car home. Now that she saw Mark was there, she was going to con him into driving the DeSoto home. *If they ever answer* she thought testily, pounding on the door this time. Finally, she heard some muffled cursing, and a grin split her face. *Oh, yeah. Something was definitely up, alright*

When the door swung open, she was presented with the very surly face of her manly best friend. His long locks were in disarray, and he only had on his jeans. A quick peek around him showed that the room was empty, so she assumed that Willow was in the bathroom.

"What?" he practically growled. Anne just grinned at him.

"Hi, Unca Mark. What're you doin here? And where's your shirt?" Matt asked, confusion marring his brow. Anne snorted, turning it into a cough when Mark glared at her. Her eyes were dancing while she looked at him, wondering how he would answer the innocent question.

"I spilled something on it," he answered, smiling down at the boy. Luckily he seemed to accept it. "What are you guys doing here? Come to see Spike and decided to stop by?"

"Nah, Daddy's at home. He was there when I woke up." Mark's eyebrows shot up, and he gave Anne his own grin, snickering at the red staining her cheeks.

"Did he spill something on his shirt too?" Mark asked, biting his lip to keep his laugh back.

"Yeah, something like that. Want to help do car duty?" She asked, hoping to shift the conversation. Just then, Willow emerged, dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Her face was flaming, and she had that glow. Anne couldn't have been happier for her friend. "Hi, Will."

"Hi. What's up?" she asked, pushing her red hair out of her face.

"Came to see who wants to help me get my car back to my house." She looked between them expectantly. Mark sighed, and went to pull on his shirt.

"Why don't we all go. That way, nobody's stuck. Can you drive a stick?" He looked at Willow, ignoring the snorting Anne was doing.

"Now, that's a loaded question," she mumbled, delighting in the flustered face of Willow, and the glaring face of Mark. Matt stared between the three adults, wondering what his mommy was laughing at, and why Mark was putting his shirt back on if it was dirty. "We'll just wait over here," she said with a snicker, pulling Matt with her back to Spike's car. Just as their door slammed, the one next to it opened, and Anne froze. There, looking for all the world like he had been on a three day bender, was Xander. They just stared at each other for a long moment, each noting the differences that were evident in the other. Xander was more muscular then she remembered, and his hair was cut shorter than he used to keep it. He was dressed in his usual blue jeans and weird shirt combo, with heavy work boots on his feet. He looked pale, save for the swollen nose, and the two sick looking black eyes. Anne felt her anger grow as she looked at him, the reason he had those bruises coming back to her.

Mark and Willow exited the room, just as the tension got to be unbearable. They had been smiling like teenagers, but almost as soon as they saw the stricken look on Anne's face, they sobered.

"Oh, goddess," Willow murmured, as she looked between her two friends. Matt ran over to Mark, not liking the feeling he was getting from his mommy and the stranger with the hurt face. Mark immediately handed Matt to Willow, who in turn, took the boy back into her room, whispering to him quietly.

"Xander." Anne finally found her voice, the word coming out sharp and angry. He flinched a bit, but took a step forward. Mark just watched them both, waiting.

"Buffy." He ducked his head a bit, his dark eyes imploring her to say something. She stood rod straight, one hand braced on the hood of the DeSoto, the other fisted at her side.

"I don't know what you expect me to say to you," she said, tilting her head to the side, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes were snapping with hurt, and anger, her jaw set tight.

"Nothing. I don't expect you to say anything," he said, hazarding another step. He felt like he was in the tiger's cage at the zoo, and he had to approach carefully or risk getting mauled. She just watched him, her stance prepared for anything.

"Then why did you come?" Xander sighed, thankful that she was going to listen to him, before she reminded him that she was the Slayer, and finished the job Spike started.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. So sorry for what happened," he started.

"Sorry for what?" she bit out, cutting him off. "For telling me my child was a freak, or for attacking Spike while his back was turned?" Anger flared across his face before he could reign it back. She merely arched a brow, waiting for his excuses.

"I never told you your child was a freak," he defended, deciding to stay away from the Spike issue for a moment.

"Didn't you?" Her voice was mocking, and she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "Maybe not in so many words. But, I definitely think the phrase 'it doesn't have to ruin your life' could be construed that way. And that still doesn't explain what happened with Spike," she reminded him, not letting him off the hook.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said about that. I just hadn't expected you to actually WANT a child of a vampire. Especially if that vampire wasn't Angel." Anne shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her.

"You never really knew me, did you?" she asked quietly, glancing over at Mark, her constant champion, and then back to Xander, her constant judge. "He gave me a life. A life I was never supposed to have. I was supposed to keep saving the world until it killed me. Most likely before I turned eighteen. And it almost did. He was there when the one I thought I could trust wasn't." She looked pointedly at him, glad that he hung his head in shame. "He helped me when you didn't. And when I found out that I was pregnant, after the initial WTF wore off, I was thrilled. It didn't matter to me what Spike was, or wasn't. He was the father of my child, and that's all that mattered. The world isn't as black and white as you like to make it."

"Oh, and you're trying to tell me that Spike is all good now? He's SOULLESS Buffy. He can't be the only soulless demon walking around that doesn't like to do evil," Xander shot back.

"How do you know? Have you walked up and personally asked any?" He didn't answer her, and she heaved a weary sigh. "I don't know what makes him different than all the others, Xander. Nor do I care. I just know that he is."

"How?" he shot back.

"Because he loves me," she replied defiantly. When Xander laughed, she nearly launched at him.

"He can't love, Buffy. He's a demon. It's only a matter of time before he remembers that you're the Slayer and tries to kill you again. And your son." Rage twisted her face at his words, and it almost blinded her with it's white hot intensity.

"He's been looking for me for FOUR AND A HALF YEARS Xander. Because he couldn't stop thinking about me. He wants me, and his child. NOT for a snack. He's had plenty of opportunity to kill me, and Matt, and he hasn't. Don't sit there and tell me things that you THINK you know." Mark watched the exchange with a growing dislike for the man, wanting to pummel him himself.

"He's just lulling you into a false sense of security."

"Man, do you EVER change your tune?" Mark's voice was dripping with disgust. Xander just glared at him, then turned his attention back to Anne,

"He's a VAMPIRE, Buff. No sunlight, no parent-teacher meetings. No taking the kid to the park for a game of catch. What kind of father can he be after dark?" he asked her, deciding to change tactics. He could tell he had hit on something that she had worried about herself, when she shifted away from him slightly. "How do you plan to explain that to your son?"

"He already knows," she shot back. She nearly laughed at the way Xander's eyes bugged. Although, the busted vessels in the whites made it look grisly.

"You told him?"

"No, he guessed. We just confirmed. Want me to lie to him?" She took a step forward, keeping her arms crossed so as not to be tempted to add to the destruction of his face.

"No, but isn't it scary for him? God, he must be terrified." Xander's heart contracted for the tiny child.

"You just saw him, did he look terrified? He thinks it's cool." She and Mark shared a smile over that one. Willow chose that moment to come out, motioning for Mark to go inside with Matt. These were her friends, and she knew their history. She felt that she should be the one moderating, and Matt was more comfortable with Mark. The tall Indian glared at Xander one last time, before slipping into the room. Willow turned to her friends, anger and guilt crossing her features. Xander now found himself faced with the two women that he loved more than anything, who were looking at him with such contempt it hurt.

"Xander, enough. You can't make her decisions for her anymore than you an make mine. If you want even a slim chance at staying in her life, you're just going to have to get over it. Spike is in their lives, to stay. Deal with it, or go back to Sunnydale," Willow said, walking closer to them.

"What about you? Just going to stay here and play house with the Indian? What about school? And the Hellmouth? Or are you just going to conveniently forget evil, too?" She flinched back like he had struck her, and her eyes widened.

"Don't start that. I don't know what's going to happen. But you can't expect it to be the three of us, only, forever. You fucked it up with Cordelia because you couldn't let go. You haven't been in a decent relationship since. All because of your fixation on Buffy. If her Watcher can get over the fact that she had a baby by a vampire, why can't you?" She asked, huffing at the end. Anne watched the two, waiting for Xander's reply.

"Because, Giles has gotten wrapped up in Joyce's emotions, and all they want is Buffy back. They can't seem to realize that what happened was just WRONG."

"No, what's wrong is you. You said you were my friend. You said you loved me, but apparently it comes with a price, doesn't it? I had to stay the perfect Slayer. Fight evil, kill vampires, protect the world from evil. Certainly never fall in love with not just one, but two of the beings I'm supposed to slay. Well, tough. It happened, and I'm not going to let you, or anyone, tell me how to live my life. Or what I'm supposed to be fighting for. My son, and my family is all I care about. And if you don't chill out, and get over this. . .prejudice, you have no place in my life," Anne told him, closing the circle so they were all within arm's reach of each other.

"I don't know if I can do that," he admitted quietly. Willow's heart went out to him then, but she didn't reach for him. He had to deal with this, and realize that he had been wrong.

"Then, I guess this is it. Don't try to be something you can't be, Xander. But don't try to apply your way of thinking to everything I do. It's my life, and I have been living pretty well for the last five years. I have everything I need, right here. And that includes Spike." Anne looked at him for a long minute, then turned to go get her son. Xander stood with his head hung low, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. He jerked when Willow touched his arm, his eyes wary.

"You going to let me have it now?" he asked, miserably.

"No. I love you, Xan. But, it's time to let go." She squeezed his arm, then turned away to join the others in her room. Xander stood there, watching her back disappear, hurt that it seemed they didn't need him anymore. Then again, when had anybody really needed him? Fighting back the wave of pain that threatened to cripple him, he went back to his room. He still had another bottle to finish.

~*~*~

"Daddy!" Matt ran through the door, and straight into the arms of his father. Giggling as he was spun around, he whispered into Spike's ear when he came to a stop. "Mommy's sad." Spike raised his scarred brow, and turned towards the adults that were filing inside. Anne was carrying his duffle bag from the hotel, her eyes tired and just a little gloomy. Willow followed her, her face an exact replica of Anne's. Mark took up the rear, anger clearly etched on his dark features.

"Well, did you have a party without me? Looks like I missed out on all the fun," he quipped, setting Matt on his feet to draw Anne into his arms.

"I saw Xander" was all she said, her arms banding tight around him. She felt him go rigid, and she ran her hands down his back, trying to ease his tension.

"I didn't like him, Daddy. He looked mean," Matt interjected. Spike grinned down at the boy, giving him a wink.

"Smart boy we have there," Mark grunted in agreement, dropping tiredly onto the couch. Willow curled up next to him, her head on his chest. Spike watched them, biting back his smirk. From the looks on their faces, and the smell that drifted towards him, they must have had as productive a morning as he and Anne. But, there was a child in the room, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Matt, go play for a bit, okay?" Anne said, ruffling his dark curls. He nodded and scampered off, still not liking the feelings he was getting from the adults. Spike drew Anne towards the recliner, settling his long frame into it, then pulling her into his lap. She sighed contentedly as his coolness and scent surrounded her, making her feel complete. Xander just had no idea what real love was, she decided, drinking in the feeling as it permeated the air around them.

"Was it bad?" Spike murmured into her hair. She shrugged a bit, her eyes locking with Willow's.

"It could have been worse, I suppose. He's still so angry," she said, sadly.

"That's his problem, not yours," Mark supplied, draping his arm around Willow. She snuggled closer to him, her mind revolving around the doubt Xander had planted. What kind of a future did they have? She wondered. He lived in Arizona, and seemed very content to be here. Her life was in California. How would they make it work? She snaked an arm around his waist, holding him tight. She was halfway close to admitting that she was in love with him, how could she go back to her life without him? Too many questions with no answers.

"Tonto's right. Can't let the way other people think affect your judgement. It's your life, you have to what's right for you," Spike said, holding her closer.

"I know. I didn't let him influence me before, I'm not going to now. I just feel so sorry for him," she answered with a sigh. Nobody said anything to that, because really, there was nothing to say. They stayed like that, wrapped around each other, until Matt returned wanting to watch tv. Then, they spent the remainder of the day each lost in their own thoughts, while Matt happily chattered away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 15**

"Buffy, I'm so sorry," Willow said as the girls moved around the kitchen, making something to eat.

"For what? I hope not Xander. His prejudice isn't your fault," Anne said, pulling a mug out from the cabinet. She then cut open the blood packet and dumped the contents inside. Willow waited until she had put the mug in the microwave and turned back to her before speaking again.

"No, not that. It's just. . ." she looked out the window into the fading day, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Willow." Anne walked over to her friend, and placed a hand on her arm. "What is it?" A tear slid from Willow's eye, and she brushed it away.

"I think, that I'm partially to blame for Spike taking so long to find you," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" Willow looked at her again, and sighed.

"The last time Spike came to town, I knew you had a son. I didn't know who his father was, I swear. But, Joyce told us that if Spike came through again, to tell him that she wanted to see him." Anne's eyes widened at that. Her mother, was trying to help her? Guilt and love warred inside of her, but she shook them away to listen to Willow's confession.

"I'm guessing you didn't?" There was no accusation in the tone, merely curiosity. Willow shook her head, pressing her lips together to hold back her tears.

"Xander convinced me not to. Said it would only cause unneeded trouble. And, I just went along with him. After that, was when I found your mother with the picture. It was all I could do not to chase Spike myself. If I'd have know, Buffy, I would've told him. Especially since it was so obvious that Joyce wanted him to know. I'm sorry." The last was said so quietly, that Anne had to struggle to hear her. Willow squeezed her friend back when she felt the strong arms surround her.

"It's okay, honey. You didn't know. I didn't exactly send out announcements when he was born. You, at least, were acting on the information that you knew. I'm sure Xander didn't tell you that Spike was the father for his own selfish reasons." Anne pulled back, and wiped the tears away from her friend's cheeks.

"I just. . .So much wasted time. I don't see how he's not seething with jealousy and anger at Mark for being there since the beginning, and Xander and me for not telling. I would be," Willow said with a sniff. Anne snorted a little.

"I'm sure he was jealous of Mark. Actually, I KNOW he was. But, they seemed to work it out. I mean look." The women moved to the open area over the kitchen bar and looked into the loving room. There, the two males were smoking, and discussing the merits and differences of each of their country's versions of football, Matt sitting on Spike's lap and hanging on every word. Spike was a steadfast soccer fan. And Mark was a diehard football fan. Both made Anne and Willow cringe. Chuckling, they turned away from the male bonding and started to gather the sandwiches they had made for dinner. "As for the pissed off part. I'm sure he is, at Xander. He would probably understand your involvement, because you have been so accepting of him now."

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?" She turned back towards the redhead, smiling at the lines of worry that still marred her smooth brow.

"Do you ever worry about what the future will bring? I mean since Spike got here," she finished quickly. A frown formed on Anne's face as she thought about it.

"Yeah. I have. I mean, this is so not the norm. He's a vampire and I was the Slayer. Not supposed to be mixy. But, I gotta say, SOMEBODY must have some greater plan for us, if they allowed a child to come from us. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be. A Slayer and a vampire. I don't know. I'm scared that he might decide to leave. Not like the family thing and go back to the killing. I don't think he will. He hasn't killed in five years, but eternity is a long time. Who knows? Then, there's that. Me and Matt won't live forever. How is he going to handle watching us grow old and die, while he's forever young? I just don't know, Will. And I try not to think about it. The here and now is what's important. Why do you ask?" Anne could sense that there was something else behind the question. Could tell by the look in the clear, green eyes staring back at her. Willow ducked her head, so her bright hair hid her face.

"What Xander said this afternoon, about me and Mark. He's right. My life is in California. Mark's is here. How do we make that work?" Anne walked over to her friend and wrapped her in her arms once more.

"All I can say is talk to him. He's a pretty terrific guy. Who knows, he just may decide that life on the Hellmouth could be fun," she said with a smile. "Are you in love with him?" Willow's eyes shot to hers, and the look in them gave her her answer.

"I think so," Willow admitted quietly. Anne's smile was huge.

"Then, you do everything possible to stay together," she said with finality.

"HEY! Where's the food?!" Spike's voice reached them from the living room. Rolling their eyes, the girls disentangled themselves from each other. Willow grabbed the tray with the food, and Anne grabbed Spike's mug from the microwave. Together, they walked back into the living room, to the cheers of the men.

~*~*~

With flourish, Mark pushed open the door of his apartment, and watched Willow as she preceded him inside. She moved to the center of the room, arms wrapped around herself as she waited for him to follow her. Throwing his keys onto the table by the entrance, he flipped the lightswitch and bathed the room in the soft light of three lamps. Willow took in her surroundings, liking the way his apartment looked. The front door opened into the rather large living room/ dining area. To the left was the dark oak dining table and chairs. As well as guitar stand, complete with guitar and amp. The living room was on the right. A large, comfy looking hunter green couch was turned facing the right wall where the entertainment center was standing. Two matching chairs flanked that. The coffee table and end tables were made to look rustic and woodsy, like a frontiersman had built them out of sticks they found in the forest. One lamp sat on each end table, the clay bottom reminiscent of Indian pottery. The third lamp was sitting on top of the tv. Around the room, she could see the evidence of his Indian heritage. Pictures of tribal rituals adorned the walls, as well as a painted portrait of an Indian maiden in full regalia. Next to it, was a picture of Mark, and an old woman. Moving closer, Willow inspected it.

The old woman was much shorter than Mark, barely reaching his stomach. Her long, gray and black hair hung over her shoulder in a braid. Life and laugh lines etched her face, and her eyes sparkled merrily, making her seem much younger than her obvious years. She carried the aura of good living, and Willow found herself instinctively liking the woman in the picture.

"Old Indian grandmother?" she asked with a smile. Mark had been watching her from his position by the door as she took in his belongings. A part of him recognized how much she belonged there. With him. He pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to her, sliding his hands over her shoulders and peering down at the picture himself. Willow sighed and leaned back into him.

"Yep. That's her. That was taken last year at her birthday." He smiled fondly at the memory. Rose Lynch looked at aging as a badge of honor. Every line and every grey hair had a story to tell, she often said. She had turned seventy that day, and she was as beautiful to Mark then, as she had been in her youth.

"What happened to your parents?" she asked. He had never mentioned them, and she had a feeling it wasn't good. A sad smile touched his lips, but she didn't see, she was still looking at the picture.

"Car crash. I was five." She turned in his arms then, and wrapped hers around his waist. Her green eyes raised to meet his, sympathy swimming in their depths.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He smiled, and raised a hand to run it over her hair.

"It's alright. It was a long time ago. And, I got to be raised by my grandparents. Gramps was determined to turn me into the proper warrior. Of course, he was baffled that I was more interested in playing the guitar than learning how to properly hunt a deer." He chuckled a bit. Her own laugh joined his. "Poor old man never did quite know what to do with me." A look of fond remembrance crossed his features, and he smiled down at Willow.

"I'd like to meet them," she said, resting her cheek against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat, and the feel of him in her arms dispelling any doubts she had been harboring. They would find a way.

"Well, Rose is no problem. She would love to get a hold of you and tell you all my dirty secrets." She snorted at that. "Harry, though. Harry I'm afraid went to meet the Great Spirit five years ago. Heart attack." She didn't say I'm sorry again, but, it was written all over her expressive face when she looked up at him. "What about your folks?" he asked. Immediately regretting it when a cloud flooded her eyes.

"They've spent the better part of the last twenty two years alternating between ignoring me and studying me," she said, a trace of bitterness lacing her words. "Kinda like an animal in the zoo." He reached up and cupped her cheek, sliding his thumb along her skin. The black of his eyes traveled over her face, a flare of anger at her parents' stupidity flashing through them.

"They're fools. How could they not know the treasure that God had given them?" Her eyes swam at that, the hurt her parents had unleashed on her over the years threatening to spill over. "Sh," he crooned, leaning down to tease her lips with his. She returned the gentle caresses with her own, seeking the hot tingles that only he could elicit. Her arms moved from his waist to his shoulders, her fingers playing in the silk of his hair as she crushed herself along his hard body. He tightened his arms around her, the kiss turning more passionate. Tongues, lips and teeth battled and soothed, heat coursing through their bodies.

In a grand gesture that rivaled any done by Rhett Butler to Scarlett O'Hara, Mark swept her up in his arms and carried her back to his bedroom. Once they were there, clothes came of swiftly, as if their passion would consume them in its fiery embrace. Once she was naked, and her pale, almost translucent skin was bathed in nothing but the moonlight filtering in from the windows, Mark laid her back on the bed. The first touch of his mouth to her heaving breast caused her to moan loudly. Her fingers fisted in his hair, as he nibbled slowly on the hard peak, his mustache tickling her skin and sending delicious shivers racing over her and straight to the very center of her being. His fingers danced along her flesh, the roughened digits memorizing every silken curve. He trailed his tongue across the valley of her breasts, to the other soft mound, giving it equal attention. She mewled softly when his fingers brushed the soft curls of her sex, and she surged her hips up to urge him on. She gasped when his tongue slid lazily down her stomach, dipping playful into her belly button, and then lower. There eyes locked when he kneeled on the floor between her thighs, his large, warm hands sliding between the bed and her buttocks. He gently kneaded the swells of her ass, his black eyes burning hers before he dipped his head to taste.

She reared off the bed at the first swipe of his tongue across her heated core. Her legs came up to wrap around his neck as he feasted greedily on her juices. Her fingers plucked uselessly on the comforter, her breaths came in shallow gasps as the throb in her center mirrored the strokes of his tongue on her sex. Alternating between her clit and her entrance, Mark slowly, langorioulsy brought her to the edge. When she was writhing beneath him, her hands desperately trying to push him closer to her, he stiffened his tongue and attacked her with a ferocity like no other. The sound of his name, followed by several 'Oh God's' broke his own hold on his control. While she was still trembling from the force of her climax, his nude body skimmed over hers, his shaft sliding effortlessly into her tight, fluttering heat.

They both groaned as he filled her, their joining seeming to be the one thing that could bring them peace. He kissed her deeply as he began to move, his hands gripping her knees and spreading her wide to his plundering thrusts. Her nails dug into the strong muscles of his shoulders, her hips grinding against his. Thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke they met, equal in passion. As he felt his orgasm start to take over, he tore his mouth away from hers, and buried his face in her hair. One of his hands moved between their sweat slicked bodies to find the hard nubbin. With a gentle twist, they crashed over the edge together.

"I love you, Willow," he gasped into her hair, shuddering violently with the force of his climax. She was just as moved beneath him, the strength of his words lightening her heart. When he raised his head to look at her, she ran her fingers through his hair, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He brushed a thumb over her lashes, gathering the moisture.

"I love you, too." She smiled at his slightly dumbfounded expression, and leaned up to kiss his surprise softened mouth. Slowly, they began to move together again, the force of their feelings pushing them to reiterate it, over and over. The room filled with soft moans and whispers of love as they fell into oblivion once more.

~*~*~

Spike moved through the house, silently turning off the lights and checking the locks. Anne was putting Matt to bed, and he could hear her quiet voice drift out of the room as he approached.

"Goodnight, honey," Anne said, leaning down to brush a kiss across his forehead.

"G'night Mommy. G'night Daddy," Matt said, turning his bright blue eyes on the blonde vampire. Spike moved into the room, and wrapped his child in his arms. It amazed him that the child never shied away from the coolness of his body. He often wondered what he, a soulless demon, had done to deserve these treasures. The love of the Slayer, and the miracle of a child.

"Goodnight, bit," he said, ruffling his hair. They stood together, and left the room, Anne flipping off the light as they left.

Moving into her room, they closed the door and fell into each other's arms. Gentle kisses and soft touches slid across skin as it was revealed to their hungry gazes. Sighs of contentment filled the air as he pushed slowly, reverently into her heat. Warm, silken limbs entwined with cool, smooth, muscular ones as they moved together in the dance of the ages. Movements became more urgent as their release approached, and with soft keens of love, they fell over into bliss. Afterwards, they curled around each other, the sound of his purr filling the air.

**Chapter 16**

Everything went unbelievably well over the next few days. Anne, Spike and Matt settled into family life, the transition amazingly easy for the vampire. Nothing meant more to him than his woman and his child, and he wanted to do everything he could to make sure they were taken care of. On Thursday, she had dumped the month's bills in his lap, a smirk curling her lip when she also told him it was time to go grocery shopping. He didn't object, after all, it was his fault she was jobless, and it was his responsibility. He simply put in a call to his lawyer, and had all his funds transferred to her account. That way, should anything happen to him, she would never have to struggle again. He paid off her car and her house, eagerly awaiting the day when the titles arrived and her could present them to her. They were hers, and no one else's.

One day, while Matt was at school, he had woken up to her cleaning out her closet. Little scraps of lace and brightly colored fabrics went flying through the air to land in a cardboard box at her feet. He had staggered naked out of bed to inspect it, and had pulled out something that looked like a belt. Upon further inspection, he saw what it really was. The straps were made to wrap around her breasts in the imitation of a bra, since their was no cup. They then would travel around to criss cross her tiny waist and hook onto the matching g-string. He held it up by one finger, scarred brow raised high. She giggled at his expression, and snatched it away from him.

"You got me fired. No need for any of this anymore," she explained, tossing the leather back in the box. Spike merely smirked, and retrieved it, along with a couple of others.

"Oh, I think we can find a use for a couple of them," he'd purred, and then they had proceeded to do just that.

Matt loved having his family together, and had brought home a picture that he had drawn in school. It had Anne, him and Spike holding hands, standing in front of their house at night. Willow and Mark were also in the picture, their stick arms wrapped around each other. Matt liked the pretty lady with the bright hair. She was always nice to him, and she did cool card tricks. She made Unca Mark happy, too. He knew that, because the couple had been over practically every night that week.

Mark and Willow were moving along at a good pace as well. After their first morning in his apartment, he had taken her back to the hotel long enough to collect her stuff, then promptly deposited it at his place. Willow seemed to be constantly walking around on a high, her expression almost matching Anne's. She was still worried about what would come when she had to return home, however. She'd been too afraid to bring it up, but she had the distinct impression that Mark wouldn't let her go easily. What that meant, was a mystery to her.

None of them heard from Xander. Anne hoped he'd gone back to Sunnydale, and Mark and Spike didn't much care where he went. Willow hoped that he was alright, but she didn't seek him out, feeling he needed time to come to terms with the things that had been said to him. She hoped he finally got over it, and accepted his friends' choices. Then, maybe, he could rebuild his own life.

By the time Friday came around, Matt was so excited about taking his father to the carnival that night, that Anne had to scold him more than once. Spike jumped in a time or two, letting the child know that there would be no divide and conquer tactics allowed. Anne was amazed at how easily he had acclimated to fatherhood. He joked with her that after dealing with the idiocy of minions, a four year old was a breeze. They never mentioned Dru, or Angel, or their time in Sunnydale. The future was also a taboo subject, since they didn't want to contemplate the time when it would only be Spike left. Spike, himself was petrified of that time. It had never been something to worry about before, as his relationships with humans had been more of the eat and run variety. Now, two very fragile lives were part of his unlife. Four if you counted Mark and Willow. And he found that the thought of life without them was scarier than holy water and stakes to the heart combined. So, he chose not to think about it, and he and Anne did a good job of ignoring it. Matt, blissfully, was oblivious.

"Hi," Anne said, pulling open the door to let Mark and Willow inside. The setting sun cast the sky in a rainbow of red, violet and pink behind them. Anne hugged Willow, delighting in the changes in her friend. Her pale skin was sun kissed, and her brilliant hair seemed redder from the hours she spent in the sun. A silver necklace with a turquoise cross hung around her slim throat, a gift from Mark. Large silver hoop earrings adorned her ears, and two thick silver bangles jangled on her wrists. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, sandals, and a white, billowing blouse that exposed her shoulders. Mark was dressed in his usual faded jeans and boots. His t-shirt was replaced with a crisp, white button down, the top few buttons undone to expose his copper skinned chest. The sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows. His long hair was captured in a tie at the base of his neck. Anne studied them, thinking they made a striking couple.

"Hey, we're here, and fully prepared for the over consumption of sugar and lard, followed closely by the threat of tossing our cookies on all those whiplash rides," Mark said, leaning down to brush his warm lips across Anne's cheek.

"Hey, Tonto, watch your lips," Spike said good naturedly as he was pulled down the hall by the overexcited Matt.

"Whatever you say, Lestat," Mark threw back, smiling at the scowl that crossed Spike's chiseled features. "Turnabout's fair play," he said with a grin. The blonde vampire's lips quirked at that, and he nodded.

"Touche," he said, leaning in to kiss Willow on her cheek. The redhead's cheeks colored bright at that. Anne rolled her eyes, and lightly punched Spike in the arm, as Mark's face clouded briefly.

"Turnabout and all that," Spike reminded him, hefting Matt up into his arms. The little boy squealed in delight.

"Can we go now?" he demanded, wrapping his arms around his father's neck.

"In a few minutes. Soon as the sun goes down," he told him. Matt pouted a little, his chin dipping to touch the front of his Shaggy t-shirt. "Hey now, none of that," Spike said, tucking a finger under his chin. Matt giggled when his father tickled his chin, and he smiled wide.

"Matt, go get your shoes on," Anne told him as Spike set him back on his feet.

"K!" he cried, taking off down the hall. The adults laughed as he disappeared. Spike turned towards Anne, his blue eyes traveling over her slim form. She was dressed in a pair of denim capris, a pair of white keds on her feet. A pink tank top highlighted her golden skin. A simple gold chain hung around her neck. Her dark, shiny hair was twisted into a thick braid that hung down her back. Simple gold balls decorated her ears. He thought she looked delicious.

Anne was having similar thoughts about him. She had forced him to go shopping the night before, deciding she'd had enough of the black. In it's place were a pair of blue jeans (he refused to buy anything but denim to adorn his lower half), and a t-shirt the color of his eyes. She couldn't make him veer from the style, but at least she got him to see that color could be a good thing. She also insisted that he leave the duster at home. It would get in the way on the rides, not to mention that it stood out like the proverbial sore thumb in a state that was hotter than most.

"So, are we ready?" Spike asked, as Matt flew back down the hall.

"I think so. You got money, right?" Anne answered with a bright smile. Spike rolled his eyes, and nodded his head.

"You going to follow us?" Mark asked as they filed out of the house.

"That's fine," Anne answered, locking the door. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Come on, Daddy," Matt said, dragging Spike down the stairs. Anne followed them to her car, and Mark and Willow went to his. As they pulled out of her driveway, none of them noticed the truck at the end of the street.

Xander waited until they were turning onto the main drag, before starting the truck and following them.

~*~*~

Anne smiled from her spot on the ground. Spike and Matt were on the merry-go-round, waving each time they came back around to her.

"Mommy, look at us," Matt demanded, smiling wide.

"I see, baby," Anne called back, returning his grin. They had been there an hour already, and Matt didn't look anywhere close to tiring. He had dragged Spike to each of his favorite rides, then proceeded to con his father into buying him cotton candy and funnel cakes. Spike was having the time of his unlife, happiness expanding his undead heart. Anne didn't ride too much, her tastes running more to the fast rides, but Matt couldn't go on those. Mark and Willow wandered around, riding what they wanted, then returning to the family. Willow found herself slightly envious of her friend, and she realized that she wanted what Anne had as well. She found herself imaging little dark haired children running around, while her and Mark cuddled on the couch. The thought thrilled and terrified her at the same time. Mark found himself having similar thoughts, only the children in his mind were exact duplicates of Willow. He shoved a hand in his pocket, and fingered the velvet box he had placed there earlier. His heart hammered in his chest as he thought of its contents. He could hardly believe that it had been just over a week ago that she had stumbled into his life. He felt like he had waited forever for her, and he had no intention of letting her go. He planned on asking her, when they got back to his place, if she would share forever with him.

Willow turned away form the merry-go-round, and smiled at Mark. Her smile diminished and her brows drew together when she thought she caught a glimpse of a very familiar dark head.

"What's the matter?" Mark asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. Willow glanced at him, then looked back to where she thought she saw Xander. Seeing nothing, she smiled again.

"Nothing. Want to go be manly and win me something cute and cuddly?" she asked, leaning her cheek against his chest.

"I thought I was cute and cuddly," he teased, his black eyes sparkling. She leaned up to brush her lips across his.

"I can think of a few different words than cute and cuddly to describe you," she said, giving him a saucy look.

"Really?" he purred, pulling her back against him. "And what might those be?"

"God, get a room," Anne teased, coming up next to them with Spike and Matt.

"Yeah, impressionable young eyes here," Spike said, indicating himself and not the little boy staring curiously at the adults. That comment elicited a chorus of snorts from the younger ones.

"If you're impressionable, I'll do a naked rain dance right here," Mark said, causing Spike to grin wickedly.

"That would almost be worth the price of admission," he sneered. Willow and Anne giggled at the way Mark's faced blanched at that. Mark didn't know whether to be insulted or afraid, or flattered.

"It's okay, honey. It's a vampire thing," Willow said, chuckling again.

"Yeah, but don't worry, not interested," Spike couldn't help but shoot out. The look of fear that hit the tall Indian's face was priceless.

"Alright, I think on that note, me and Willow are going over there. Away from you," he said, pointing at the vampire.

"Aw, too bad. Just when I was hoping we could bond," Spike leered, deliberately dragging his eyes over Mark. He couldn't hold his laughter back anymore when Mark practically dragged Willow away from them. Anne looked over at him, amusement warring with stern reproach on her face. Matt, luckily, hadn't understood most of the conversation.

"Good job. I don't think I've seen Mark that particular shade of green since I gave birth," she said, with a tilt of her eyebrow. Spike just chuckled.

"Wha? He started it," the blonde tried to defend. "What's next, bit?"

"Bafroom," he answered.

"Aw, that sounds like a man chore. I'll be over with Willow and Mark, kay?" Anne said, leaning in to accept Spike's kiss.

"Be back in a few," Spike answered, picking up Matt and heading in the direction of the loo. Anne watched them go, the contrast of dark and light making her heart squeeze. With a smile, she turned and walked to her friends, not seeing the dark haired man filing through the crowd after the vampire.

~*~*~

"Daddy, I don' feel good," Matt said, clutching his stomach when he came out of the bathroom.

"Well, after all that junk you ate, I'm not surprised," Spike answered, picking up his son once more and cradling him in his arms. The boy's skin was a sickly white, and a light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. The smell of sickness reached Spike, and he chuckled a bit. "Let's go find Mum, and go home, shall we?" Matt only nodded, snuggling deeper into his father's cool chest. Spike smiled again, and started back towards the crowds to find Anne.

"Hold it, vampire," a slurred voice from behind him said. Spike stilled, then turned, blue eyes flashing yellow as they settled on Xander. The brunette stood unsteadily about ten feet away, a small crossbow trained at Spike.

"What are you doing, whelp?" he growled, keeping his voice soft to not disturb the fitfully sleeping child in his arms.

"I was about to ask you that. Looks like you've got yourself a tasty little snack there," Xander said.

"Don't be a git. This is my son," Spike returned.

"Oh, and all that sweet young blood isn't calling to you? I find that hard to believe," the brunette sneered. The crossbow never wavered, even though Xander looked worse for wear. Spike angled his body so that the bolt wouldn't hit Matt should the idiot accidentally shoot it. He glanced around the area, seeing that it was mostly deserted since most of the people were over at the carnival. His mind sped, as he tried to think of a way out of this situation, and not get Matt hurt in the process. Xander had obviously gone round the bend.

"I don't care what you believe. And I don't believe that you'll shoot. Wouldn't want a brassed off Slayer after you, now would you?" Spike asked, hazarding to turn. A growl erupted from his chest when the sharp sting of wood pierced his shoulder. He struggled to keep his grip on his precious bundle.

"Wanna try again?" Xander asked, reloading quickly. "Why don't you put the boy down, then we can finish this in private," he suggested. Spike looked down at Matt, and cursed when he saw the bright blue orbs open.

"Daddy?" he asked weakly. His stomach was hurting, and he felt hot. He wasn't afraid of the vampiric ridges of his father's face. What scared him was the look of pain in his yellow eyes, and the cold voice speaking to Spike.

"Sh, bit. Quiet now," he whispered, struggling to return to his human features.

"Isn't that sweet?" Xander crooned, his voice mocking. Finally, Spike managed to push his demon back, and smiled down at his child.

"I'm going to put you down, now, poppet. Run to your mum." He spoke softly, hoping to ease the scared boy.

"Daddy, that's the man that made Mommy mad," Matt whispered back.

"I know." Spike answered, slowly lowering him to the ground. "When I say, you run, alright?" Matt nodded, sliding his wide blue eyes to the man behind his father.

"Hope you aren't planning on running Spike. I'm not as stupid as you think."

*That's a matter of opinion,* Spike thought with a grimace. The bolt in his shoulder hurt like fire, and he wondered if the brunette had treated it with something.

"Run!" Spike hissed, pushing the boy to get him started. Matt moved as fast as his little legs would carry him. Spike waited a beat, long enough for Matt to disappear into the crowd before rounding on Xander. Full game face on, he started to lunge, only to collapse when Xander let another bolt loose into his stomach. That one was definitely treated, as the skin around it started to smoke.

"Bloody hell," he gasped, as searing pain lanced through him. Another bolt hit the front of his shoulder, inches from his heart. The one in his back pierced all the way through when he landed on it. Spike reached up to pull that one out first, tears of pain misting his eyes. He threw it away, and struggled up to his knees, leveling yellow eyes on his nemesis. Xander still had the crossbow aimed at him, a fresh bolt ready to go.

"Get up, Spike. Let's take this somewhere we can talk," he said, amicably. Spike took a deep breath and pushed himself up. He was losing blood quickly, and he wondered what exactly was on the wood. "Holy water. Keeps the wounds from closing too quickly," Xander supplied, as if reading his mind. "Now, move!" He jerked the crossbow, letting Spike know which direction to go. With one last, longing look at the bright, colorful lights of the carnival, the blonde started to move.

~*~*~

Anne, Mark and Willow were standing in front of the dart game, laughing at Mark's attempts to win Willow the giant panda. After the tenth try, he gave up, turning to kiss Willow's smiling mouth.

"Pool's more my game, sweets," he said apologetically.

"Oh well. I still have you to snuggle with," she replied, brushing her thumb across his cheek.

"Speaking of snuggling. Haven't Spike and Matt been gone a while?" Anne asked, turning to scan the crowd.

"MOMMY!" A tiny voice carried over the din, causing Anne's heart to jump into her throat. She raced in the direction of the sound, Willow and Mark on her heels. Matt broke through the crowd and launched into Anne's arms.

"Matt, what happened? Where's your father?" she asked, wiping his tears away. Matt was breathing heavy, and sweaty, the smell of sickness in the air around him.

"Da-daddy took me to the bafroom, I got sick. He was comin' to fine you, and then he stopped. That bad man from Sunday was there. He shot Daddy. Daddy tole me to run and find you. Why did he hurt Daddy, Mommy?" Matt had deteriorated into sobs as he told her what happened. Two feelings hit Anne at once. Relief that Matt was alright, and fear for Spike.

"Oh, goddess," Willow gasped, gripping Mark's arm. The Indian immediately started to scan the edges of the crowd, looking for the tell-tale white head.

"Matt, honey, can you tell me which way they went?" He shook his head wildly, clutching his mother with all the force he had in him. Anne closed her eyes and hugged him close, her minding visiting every death that she herself had bestowed on vampires.

"Let's go check by the bathrooms," Mark said, already heading that way. Willow and Anne followed him, terror clutching them. Willow's mind had shut down, her disbelief making it hard to think. She never would have thought that Xander would go this far. She thanked anybody that she could think of that he let Matt go.

Mark moved with the stealth and speed that rivaled any vampire. Thousands of years of Native American heritage flowed through his veins as he started to track the pair. When they reached the bathrooms, he immediately veered left, following the trail into the clearing beyond. Every few feet, he would see blood in the light from the moon, and he guessed correctly that it was Spike's. Just as they reached the side of the road, Xander's beat up old truck tore off onto the highway. They were too far away from their cars to even think about giving chase. Willow began to scan the surrounding area for obvious piles of dust.

"He's not dead," Anne said with conviction, realizing what her friend was looking for. "I'd feel it if he were." Matt continued to sob in her arms, and she squeezed him tightly. "Sh, baby. We'll find him."

"I can do a location spell. I just need something of his," Willow said, hope flaring in her eyes.

"Then let's go back to my house. Everything is there."

"We need to stop by Mark's first, so I can get my supplies." Anne gave a curt nod and started back towards the crowds. The smell of sweet stuff was nauseating, and the laughter was grating. She strode silently to the other side where her car was parked, her arms wrapped around her child, her heart refusing to believe that she would lose Spike. Not now, after they finally found each other. She vowed, as she slid her terrified son into his seat in her car, that Xander would pay for fucking with what was hers.

 

 

**Chapter 17**

 

Spike came awake with a groan, two things apparent almost immediately. One, his body was one white hot throb of pain. Two, his arms were tied above his head, his sockets burning with the strain of holding his body weight. He tried to pry his eyes open, but the pain in his head was nearly unbearable. The last thing he remembered was the dizzying walk to Xander's old jalopy. Then, when they had reached it, the blinding lights that had exploded behind his eyes, before blackness over took him.

Forgetting about seeing for the moment, he tried to center himself so he could pick up the sounds in the room. He had to single out the roar in his head, and push it aside, desperately searching for the sound of Xander's heartbeat. He finally heard it, behind him. Along with the sound of wood hitting metal. For the first time in five years, Spike felt fear. Not since Dru attached herself to her daddy and ventured into hell had he felt terror like this. He was tied up, lightheaded, and nauseous, with no immediate means of escape. He thanked the God that had forsaken him that Matt had gotten away. He found himself begging that same God to get him out of this. He wanted his life, his woman and his child. Maybe he didn't deserve them, but he had been blessed for a reason, and he couldn't believe that it would all be snatched away from him. Or, maybe that was the price he had to pay. His life for theirs.

Finally prying his eyes open, he ventured a look around. They seemed to be in some sort of abandoned barn, the interior empty and dim, even though Spike could smell sunrise coming. He looked down the length of his body, noticing for the first time that he was only wearing his jeans, the blood from his wounds staining his chest, stomach and the denim down to his knees. The angry hole in his stomach was finally starting to close, and he could feel the one in his back and chest starting to as well. His head throbbed, every time he tried to move it, making his vision swim black. He forced himself to stay awake, wanting to face his death head on.

"Whelp," he croaked, trying to turn to see behind him. He heard a clatter like something being dropped on a table.

"Spike. You're awake! Wanna drink?" Xander let out a giggle that would have had Spike smirking if it weren't for the crossbow waiving around dangerously in his hand. A bottle of Jack was in his other hand, the contents half gone. He reeked of booze and sweat.

"No thanks. Got a bit of a headache," Spike answered, wincing when the brunette giggled again.

"That's funny. Too bad you're evil, we coulda been friends," he said with a snort, before tipping the bottle back again. Spike raised his scarred brow at that.

"You have me at a disadvantage, mate. What are you planning to do?" Xander shrugged a flannel clad shoulder, and sat down hard on the floor. Amazingly, he didn't drop either of the two objects in his hands, even though he tipped dangerously to the side.

"Not sure. Had a few ideas. Thought 'bout bleeding you, seeing if you would turn to dust when you were empty. Like me, empty, empty. No love, no friends." He snorted again, tears sliding sown his cheeks. "Even thought about just staking you. Thought that lacked. . ." He waved the bottle around as he searched for a word. "Poetry." Another burst of laughter followed that. "Now, I thought, that I would bring in a tasty little morsle for you to chew on. Let you stew for a while. Let the bloodlust build up. But, I know that wouldn't work, cause, I know my Willow. Such a pretty little Willow. She's going to find us." Spike felt hope bloom at those words.

"Then, why haven't you taken care of me yet? Seems a touch sloppy on your part." Spike knew he probably shouldn't have said that when a bolt let loose and imbedded in his knee. "Augh." He twisted in the chains, the smell of fresh blood assailing him. "Bloody hell." Agony sliced up his leg, and his vision swam.

"Oops," came the comment from the floor. "Just slipped." Laughter again, cut off by the sloshing of liquor against glass. Xander pushed up from the floor, and staggered out of Spike's sight again.

"Fuck!" Spike spat when he felt burning liquid sear his flesh.

"Ya know, Spike. I just don't get it," Xander started, his tone friendly. He let loose another stream of holy water from the water pistol in his hand, watching the burns form odd patterns. "What is it about vampires? You're evil. Okay, so you have the benefit of being eternally young, which I will admit is cool. But, the whole blood drinking, sleeping with an animated corpse thing. I just don't understand. And WHY would the Gods give you a child?" Confusion coated his words, as he started to walk in a circle around Spike, occasionally pulling the trigger to release more of the deadly liquid. The vampire struggled to stay quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of any sound at all.

"Cause I'm so charming, maybe?" he offered, quirking a brow.

"Humph. Whatever." Xander rolled his eyes, the action causing him to stagger a bit.

"Why aren't you killing me, boy?"

"Eager to die?" Xander stopped, and turned his drunken eyes on the blonde.

"Not really, done it once, can't say it was pleasant. I just can't figure out what this is all about. You didn't traumatize my son to keep me alive. Or, did you not plan ahead?" Guilt crossed Xander's face at the mention of Matt, and the ramifications of what his actions at the carnival would have on the youngster.

"I didn't want to hurt him. Or scare him. I just thought. . .they had to know that you couldn't change. It's impossible."

"Who says? The Council of Wankers? They don't know the first thing about vampires," Spike snorted.

"Oh, so, you're all just a bunch of regular Joe's who just happen to think that world destruction is a fun past time, and that blood makes an excellent after dinner drink?" the brunette quipped, his face calm.

"No. Most of 'em are evil. There are a few that aren't. And not because they're cursed," Spike said. He was starting to get the distinct impression that Xander wasn't going to kill him. He was stalling, and the blonde couldn't figure out why.

"Really?" Xander seemed to consider this. "Why then? What makes you so special?"

"Has a lot to do with who you were before you got turned. Liam was a bastard to begin with, that just transferred to Angelus. Darla was a whore. Dru, well, Dru was innocent. Angel tainted her before he turned her."

"What about YOU? What about you makes it concrete that you won't ever kill again?"

"Lost the taste for it," Spike said, honestly. He never fully understood himself, why he had given it up. Part of him thought that maybe it had something to do with the bite that he had given Buffy, like maybe he had linked into her soul, and it kept him from doing it. "I love her, Xander. You can turn it however many different directions you want. It won't change. Dru turned me, Buffy saved me."

"But that doesn't explain WHY," the brunette whined.

"What do you want me to say, whelp? I haven't quite figured out myself. I lived for over a century, doing exactly what vampires are supposed to do, and enjoying it. One day with Buffy and everything changes. ONE DAY! I don't know why, I don't know how. Nor, do I particularly care. It just is." Spike jerked hard on his restraints when he felt the blade of a knife slice into his kidney.

"It just is? IT JUST IS? That's all you can come up with? I don't get it. She's the vampire SLAYER. She's not supposed to fall in love with you. Leave behind her friends, her mother. Especially her mother."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly supposed to fall in love with her, either." Spike blinked, struggling to stay conscious, as Xander carelessly inflicted new wounds. He needed blood, soon, or all Buffy would find was a big pile of dust. He still didn't think that Xander would intentionally kill him. But he was drunk enough to do it by accident. "And your attitude is the reason she left. You lied to her about the spell. Then you show up in L.A. and try to shove your hate down her throat. You think her bloody calling is so sacred, you try giving up everything, with the knowledge that you probably won't live past eighteen, to save the world on a weekly basis. Maybe she would have stayed if you didn't lie. Maybe she wouldn't have run if you had just been her friend." His head whipped around with the force of the punch Xander hit him with.

"SHUT UP! What do you know about friendship? You are an evil, soulless thing." Xander got right up in his face, the stench of alcohol filtering the air between them. "How many friends have you had in your pathetic unlife? Hm?" Spike refused to answer, because, the whelp was right. Aside from Druscilla, Spike had spent the majority of his life alone. Until Buffy. His hazy mind brought up an image of Mark, and even Willow. He'd only known the Indian a week, did that make them friends? "You can't tell me, can you? That's cause the number is a big zero. Well, I had two friends. Yeah, they were girls, but I loved them. And they have both turned on me. For what?" Xander reappeared in front of Spike again, a knife replacing the crossbow. "You. That's what. And that Indian. They don't need me." That last part was said in a whisper, and Spike's pain addled senses had trouble picking it up.

"Xander. What the hell are you going to do?" Spike's voice was tired, and he felt the call of sleep as the sun rose over the horizon, the deadly rays filtering through the gaps in the boards of the old building.

"I. . ."

Just then, the squeal of tires and the sound of skittering rocks came from the outside.

"They're here," Xander said, moving quicker than Spike thought possible in his inebriated state. He moved to the mechanism holding Spike upright, and released. The blonde hit the floor with a thud, pain singing through his body. Xander looked down at the prone vampire, and they both realized, in the same instant, that he was in the position of the door. Once it was flung open, the vampire would be bathed in sunlight. Spike tried to push himself up to move, as the sound of pounding footsteps became audible. They apparently weren't worried about stealth. Before Spike could register what was going on, he felt a pair of unsteady arms wrapping around his chest, and pulling him out of the way, just as the door flung open wide.

"Put him the fuck down you sicko," Anne spat, taking long strides with her short legs to reach them. Spike hit the floor when she let loose a kick, sending Xander careening backwards. He groaned loud, growling when the dust from the floor rubbed into his wounds. Warm, gentle hands were on his chest, Willow's soft voice filling the air around him. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh overlaid her words, making it hard for him to hear. The pain started to become bearable, with each passing second of her hands on him. He hazarded cracking open one eye, to look at the redhead above him. She was kneeling beside him, her head thrown back, and ethereal type light glowing around her. The heat of her hands intensified and spread, making him feel like he was being wrapped in a warm blanket. His head slumped to the side, and he had a perfect view of the destruction Anne was bestowing on Xander. He could just see Mark, hovering behind Willow, keeping an eye on the fight, but every second or so, his gaze landed on Spike.

Anne didn't speak as she threw punches and kicks at Xander. The fact that he wasn't even trying to fight back not registering. Not that she would have cared if he had. This was the final straw. She was tired of him trying to run her life, doing things that HE thought were right. First with Angel, and now with Spike.

Her right cross to his jaw sent him spinning through the air, his blood stained her knuckles, the sound of his groans filled her ears. Her vision was hazy with rage. He terrorized her son, tortured her mate, she was beyond caring. She let out a frustrated scream when her next punch was caught. She whirled on the offender, nearly knocking Mark back on his ass.

"What are you doing?" Anne growled, her voice tight, her jaw clenched. She could have made him let go, but some part of her brain recognized that would be bad. HE wasn't who she wanted to hurt.

"Annie, he's out cold. Don't do something you'll regret," Mark told her, black eyes piercing through her haze. She turned to look over her shoulder at the prone figure on the floor. Xander was sprawled on his back, blood pouring form his nose and lip, his eyes blooming a brilliant purple over the yellowing older bruises. She knew that his chest was probably just as bruised. "Willow needs your help with Spike." Instantly, Xander was forgotten, and she was moving towards her friend and her man.

Mark walked over to Xander, his dark hair falling over his shoulder as he looked down at the man. Sympathy and pity coursed through him as he looked down at him. Mark sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Everything had been moving on fast forward since Matt found them at the carnival. He and Willow had left and gone straight to his house, gathering the supplies she would need to find the vampire. Then, they had rushed to Anne's who was on the phone trying desperately to find a sitter for Matt. Finally, Molly called and said that she could come over. Matt had been terrified, crying for his daddy, and clinging to Anne like she would disappear if he let go. Finally, exhaustion had overcome him, and he had fallen asleep. Anne laid him down in his bed, draping the child in his father's duster, before going to her bedroom to help Willow. Mark had tried to come up with a story for Molly, so she wouldn't think they were all nuts, or call the cops. He'd finally settled on telling her that Spike had been in an accident, and that's what all the confusion was about, hoping she didn't shine light through all the obvious holes in the explanation. Molly had thankfully accepted it. Then, the girls had emerged from the room, a steely look of determination on Anne's face. Grief, fear, and anger warred across Willow's, and she clutched onto Mark's hand as they made their way to his car. Anne was in no condition to drive, and she wasn't as familiar with the areas outside of town as he was. Willow had shown him the circle on the map that the spell indicated, and Mark knew exactly where to go. He'd barely skidded to a stop when Anne was out of the car, followed closely by Willow.

When they burst through the doors, Anne lost all reason when she saw Xander handling Spike. It looked to Mark like he was trying to pull the blonde out of the way of the sunlight streaming through the door. Annie was too far gone to care. The Indian let her have her licks, but anymore and she would have killed him, and he didn't want her to have to live with that kind of guilt. With one final look at the brunette, he walked over to where the girls were frantically hovering over Spike. The vampire had passed out from blood loss, and his pale skin had taken on a sickly pallor. The front of his jeans was completely covered with blood, and his hair was sticky with it.

"How's he doing?" Mark asked, kneeling down. In this state, Spike looked like a corpse, and even though Mark knew that's what he technically was, it was still unnerving.

"I don't know. The healing spell was designed for humans, not the undead. I think the bleeding has stopped. He needs blood. That's the only thing I know for sure," Willow said, her wide green eyes full of worry. She hazarded a glance over at Xander, her pale skin blanching even more. Anne was stroking gentle fingers over Spike's brow, silent tears tracking down her face.

"Mark, give me your knife," she said, not looking up at him. His brow creased in confusion as he did, the velvet box he had in his pocket coming out as well. Green eyes widened when Willow saw it, looking away quickly as the implications hit her. Mark just put it back, handing Anne his pocket knife, not realizing that the redhead had seen it. He watched as Anne opened the knife and slid it across her wrist. He gasped as the blood bubbled forth, and she immediately put it against Spike's slack lips.

"Come on, baby," she cooed, stroking his cheek. She sighed in satisfaction when she felt his lips start to move, instinct kicking in and making him drink. She let him until she started to feel light headed, then pulled her wrist away, wiping the blood that stained his lips away. "Let's get him home. There's more blood there." She moved to pick him up, swaying a bit. Mark pushed her out of the way and did it himself, cradling the blonde against his chest.

"Find something to cover him with," he said, staring at the patch of sunlight. Anne and Willow began to search through the near empty building, Willow finally finding a horse blanket in the corner. It stank from mold and age, but, it would have to do. "Let's go." He walked outside, leaving the girls to follow. Willow stopped next to Xander, an idea playing in the back of her mind.

"Willow, let's go," Anne said, pausing by the door.

"Go ahead, send Mark back once he gets you home," Willow said, kneeling next to her fallen friend.

"What are you going to do?" Suspicion made her words sharp, as she watched the redhead unbutton the flannel shirt.

"Just go, Buffy. I'll take care this."

"Willow! What about all he's done. . ." Willow's green eyes snapped to hers.

"You forgave Spike." Her words stopped Anne cold. Her head jerked back, almost like she had been slapped. She looked down at Xander, then back up at Willow. "He won't bother you again. Just, go. I'll see you in a bit."

"I love you Will." Anne felt the need to say it, just so the women understood each other. She wasn't mad at the Wiccan need to help him, she understood it. Willow's face softened, and she gave Anne a soft smile.

"I love you too. Send Mark back."

"Okay. Be careful" The witch nodded and went back to her task. Anne gave them one last look before turning away to take Spike home.

 

 

**Chapter 18**

Anne went into the house to let Molly go before Mark brought Spike in. She didn't want to freak out the babysitter by bringing in a badly injured body wrapped in a blanket. As soon as she was gone, Mark brought the still unconscious vampire into the house, and took him back to Anne's room, while she went into the kitchen to prepare him some blood.

"I'm going to go get Willow," Mark said, striding out of the house. Anne stood in front of the microwave, her body trembling as her mind finally convinced her of how close she had really come to losing him. Her eyes drifted closed as she fought the wave of tears that burned behind her eyes, and she forced back the nausea that threatened to choke her. She hadn't felt this desperate since that day so long ago, when she watched Angel get sucked into Hell.

The ding of the microwave broke her from her thoughts. She pulled the mug out and went towards her room, pausing to look in on Matt. He was thankfully still sound asleep. She didn't know if, in her current state of mind, she could deal with him and take care of Spike at the same time. Smiling gently at the sight of the curly brown hair peeking out from under the duster, she pulled the door to.

She sucked in a breath when she entered her room, the sight of Spike's pale, motionless body familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The blood covering his skin and clothes made him look too much like the casualty of a car accident. She moved over to the bed, and placed the mug on the nightstand, then went to the bathroom to get a basin of water, a washcloth, and the first aid kit. Taking them back to her room, she went in search of the scissors, using them to cut his jeans off. Her chin trembled as the extent of his injuries became even more obvious. Three puncture wounds marred his torso, a grisly map of where the crossbow bolts had gone. Luckily, they were starting to close. Several angry burns traversed his stomach and chest. His knee also sported a puncture wound. Blood intermingled with his bright hair, giving it an odd punk look. She knew there was more damage to his back, but she decided to deal with the front first.

Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, she dipped the cloth in the basin and brought it to his skin, gently washing the wounds clean. By the time she was done, the water was tinged pink, and the washcloth was ready for the trash. He hadn't moved through her ministrations, and she was starting to get worried. It was so hard to tell when something was wrong with vampires. With no heartbeat, and the total lack of breathing, she couldn't determine what to do. She blinked back tears again as she set to work on bandaging him up. She refused to think of Xander, or what Willow might be doing. She couldn't. She might have understood Willow's motives, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

When she was done, she gently rolled him over to deal with the entry wound in his shoulder, and the burns that she found there, as well as the knife wound on his lower back. He groaned a little as she eased him back when she was done.

"Spike?" she whispered, brushing her fingers over his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and she smiled. "Spike?"

"Kitten?" he gasped, opening his eyes to pin her with the blue orbs. Pain clouded them, but she saw his relief, and the love that was beneath.

"Hi. I was starting to worry," she admitted softly. He brought a hand up to cup her face, to prove to himself that she was real, and not some vision created by the devil to torment him.

"Told you I'd never leave," he said with a smile. Her own lips quirked in response, the tears that had been fighting to break free finally falling. "Sh, kitten." He pulled her against his chest, heedless of his injuries. It felt so good to hold her, to know she was real, and alright. She was thinking along the same lines as her arm wrapped around his waist, mindful of his injuries. After a few minutes, she calmed, raising her head to look down at him. Her eyes were swollen, and her nose was red from crying. Spike couldn't remember her looking more beautiful.

"I love you," she said, leaning in to brush her lips softly across his.

"I love you, too." He pulled her down for a longer, deeper kiss, passion flaring between them. She pulled back when he tried to roll them, his growl of pain cutting through the haze of want.

"We can't. You're hurt."

"Hmpf. Never so hurt that I can't make love to my woman." He growled once more when he tried to shift, and she raised her eyebrow.

"Wanna try that again, Fang boy?" His eyes narrowed into slits.

"Watch it, pet." A knock on the door stopped what Anne might've said.

"Mommy." Matt's tiny voice drifted through the wood.

"Hold on, honey," she called, going in search of something to put on Spike to cover the worst of his wounds, so as not to scare the boy any further. Once he was dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, she went over to the door to let him in.

"Daddy!" the boy cried, scrambling up onto the bed to throw himself into his father's arms.

"Honey, be careful. . ." Anne started, only to be waved off by the vampire. She smiled as Spike wrapped his son in his arms, and went to join them on the bed. She snuggled on the vampire's side, her heart swelling with joy that everybody was all right.

"Did that bad man hurt you?" Matt asked, his eyes owlish.

"Don't you worry about that, poppet. I'm fine," Spike lied smoothly, easing the child.

"Where did he go?" Fear flickered across the young face, causing Anne to tear up again.

"Don't worry about that, honey. He won't be able to hurt us again," she told him, running her hand over his soft curls. Her eyes caught Spike's and she mouthed 'Willow' to him. As he started to nod his understanding, all three hissed in air as a wave passed over them. A flash of red light passed through their eyes and tiny moans of near pain passed from their lips. After a couple of seconds, they blinked, everything returning to normal again.

Anne smiled as she looked down at her men.

"Daddy, d'you prawmiss to be carfull when you drive?" Matt asked his father, a stern look on his face. Spike mock saluted him, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Absolutely," he said, a smile curling his lips.

"Yeah, buddy. You need to remember, that just cause you're undead, doesn't mean you're immortal." Anne scolded, giggling at his annoyed expression.

"How was I supposed to know that the bleedin' deer was going to jump out at me?" he defended himself. "Ugly bastard too." Anne smacked his arm lightly, a reproachful look on her face.

"Language," she scolded.

"Sorry," Spike mumbled, scowling.

"Daddy, don' do that. Your face will stick," Matt said with a giggle.

"Oh, really?" Spike said, vamping. The boy squealed with delight at the sight of his father's vampiric face.

"Can't be much worse than this, now can it?" Matthew giggled hysterically at the funny faces his father was making, all the while in his demonic visage. Anne joined in, her own heart light that the accident hadn't taken him from them. Even though Spike looked like he had gone a couple of rounds with a pissed off lumber truck, the DeSoto had escaped unscathed. Spike pridefully said something about things being made to last back then. The rest of the day was spent, just the three of them, huddling on the bed together, laughter filling the room.

~*~*~

Fighting back tears, Willow undid the buttons of Xander's shirt, hissing when she saw the bruises marring his chest. Buffy had been wild when she had attacked, defending her family with the ferocity of any mother bear. Placing her hands on his chest, she whispered the healing spell, her body starting to glow once more. As she spoke, the bruises began to fade, and the open cuts closed. When all the damage had been repaired, she stopped, and leaned back to wait.

A loud groan escaped the brunette's lips as he shifted, his eyes fluttering open.

"Will?" he gasped, pushing himself into a sitting position. She knew the moment that memory returned to him, as his shoulders began to shake. Torn between anger and the need to comfort, Willow sat there while he cried. "What the hell is the matter with me?" he asked the air. Turning to face her, she flinched as she looked into the guilt ravaged eyes of her friend. "How could I do that to that little boy? To Buffy?"

"To Spike," Willow added, anger winning for a brief instant. "I don't know what's going on with you anymore, Xander. I don't know you," she said. He closed his eyes, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I don't know, either. I really don't. Oh God, how they must hate me." Pain laced his words and he started to shudder again. He shook it off, and looked back at her. "What I did to that little boy. I'm no better than any vampire," he mumbled, misery written on his face. This is what drinking did. It made you ignore logic and rationality. He'd seen it enough, growing up, how could he have forgotten?

"I hope that you've finally learned something from this. Because, you've ruined any chance you had at getting back into her life. You terrorized a four year old little boy, Xander. You shot his father in front of him." Her voice rose with each word, his head dipping lower as she spoke. "There's no fixing this. You've burned your bridges, I hope you're happy," she finished, silent tears tracking down her face. He looked up at her then, the stark anguish in his dark orbs making her heart break.

"You can fix it," he whispered. Her eyes widened a fraction, her brain not catching his meaning. He just continued to stare at her, not blinking or moving, and not clarifying himself.

"What do you think I can do, Xander?" she cried, throwing her hands in the air. "There's nothing I can say that will smooth this over. You were wrong."

"I know. I don't want you to say anything," he said, raising himself up onto his knees. "Make them forget. Make ME forget," he whispered, his face imploring. Green eyes widened at his plea.

"What?" she asked, not quite sure she had heard him.

"It hurts too much. Make me forget." She stared at him in disbelief, her head shaking no. She studied his face, not really believing what he was asking her. She saw so much pain in his eyes, she nearly choked from it. She could heal his body, but she couldn't heal his heart.

"I can't," she gasped. He leaned forward and gripped her shoulders, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

"Please." She knocked his hands away, backing away on her knees.

"What you're asking me to do, is wrong. It's an abuse of magic. . ."

"Why?" he interrupted. "I'm asking you to. You're not sneaking around behind my back, or anything." He reached for her again, only to be evaded. "Wipe it all out, Will. The Hellmouth, demons, Buffy."

"Me!" she cut him off, agony lancing her heart.

"You're better off without me." She shook her head, vehemently denying his words. He moved forward again, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb gathering the moisture sliding along her skin. "Let me go. You have the opportunity to have a great life. Take it, and don't look back. I'm sorry, for everything." He brushed a kiss across her forehead, fighting the ache tearing at his chest.

"Xander. . ." his name was barely a whisper as she pulled back to look at his face.

"You can fix this, Will. Make it better. For that little boy. For me."

"What am I supposed to do without my best friend?" she whimpered.

"You have a new best friend now." She was crying in earnest, her heart shattering in her chest. He had been the only constant in her life, the only one who cared when her parents didn't. "Please, Willow." The look of steely resolve on his handsome face was what finally pushed her over to his side. Surging forward, she wrapped her arms around him and hung on for dear life.

"I love you," she whispered, sobs shaking her slim frame. His arms tightened around her waist, his own sobs breaking free. She sat back, running her hands and eyes over his unshaven face, trying to imprint everything about him into her memory.

"I love you, too, Will. Always." He moved away from her, avoiding the hands still reaching for him. "Do it, Will. Before Mark comes back. Then, you hold onto him, and you never let him go." His face twisted in agony as he broke into fresh tears.

Still crying herself, Willow pulled her bag to her, and pulled out her supplies with shaking hands.

~*~*~

A half an hour later, Mark found her, sitting in the middle of the old barn, arms wrapped around her knees as she cried. Saying nothing, he walked to her and gathered her up in his arms, gently rocking her. Tremors wracked through her as she began to speak, telling him in a hitching voice what Xander had wanted, what she had done.

He cradled her in his lap, a strong hand running down her back as he talked. They were the only two who knew the truth now. She had wiped the memory of Xander Harris from everybody that knew him, just like he had wanted. Except for hers and Mark's. She needed to keep him alive in her mind, because, technically, he was dead to her now. And she had needed Mark to remember, as well. So she wouldn't go crazy from it.

The Indian just sat, his mind turning in a million different directions at once. He wasn't sure about the ethics of what Willow had done, or the cowardess of what Xander had wanted. He was sure that he was thankful that Matt would have no memory of the events. Shaking the thoughts away, he looked down at the grief stricken woman in his arms. Her pain tore at his heart, and he knew that he would stand by her. He wasn't judgmental by nature, and he didn't feel the need to start now. Not when she looked so tiny and broken in his arms.

"I love you, Willow," he said softly, brushing a kiss across her hair. She shifted in his lap, until she was straddling his lean hips. Cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him, expressing all the love she felt with the press of her lips against his.

"I know what I did has a lot of hazy moral implications. I don't practice magic to abuse it. But, in this situation, I think it was best, for all of them. He was in so much pain, and Matt. . ." She trailed off, resting her forehead against his. "Please, don't ever doubt me. I will never do anything like this again. I swear to you. I love you, Mark, please believe me."

"Hush, now," he whispered. "I know. I understand. I do," he said when she looked at him doubtfully. "You're my world now, Willow." His throat threatened to close with the force of emotion he was feeling. Her large, luminescent green eyes searched his face, the last vestiges of doubt dissipating under the black eyes filled with love. She thought of what Xander had said to her, before she performed the spell.

"Grab hold of him, Will. And don't let go."

With a smile, she kissed him again, then settled back to look at him.

"I think you have something in your pocket for me," she said, giggling through her still flowing tears at the look on his face. He blinked and pursed his lips, fighting his own wave of tears. He didn't ask how she knew about the ring. He just shifted his hips and reached into his pocket, pulling out the little velvet box. They both stared down at it for a long minute, each thinking about the ways their lives were going to change once it was opened.

With a pounding heart, and suddenly sweaty hands, Mark opened the box, and turned it towards her. The dim light glinted off the simple, round diamond set in a gold band. Willow sucked in a deep breath when she saw it, tears of joy replacing her tears of grief.

"Willow," Mark started, stopping to clear his throat. "Will you do me the extreme honor, of becoming my wife?" he asked, holding his breath. She looked at the ring, then back up at him, feeling as if all the answers to all of the questions she'd had about them had been given with that one question. Giving him a wide, watery smile, she shook her head yes, laughter bubbling for her chest. Mark released the breath with a whoosh, and with a shaking hand, pulled the ring from it's resting place. He slipped it onto her slim finger with ease, their eyes locking as it slid into place.

"Perfect fit," he whispered, piercing her to her soul with his deep, black gaze.

"I know."

 

**Epilogue**

_New York City, New York (three months later)_

Alex Harris stepped off the bus and into the sweltering heat of the city in summer time. With curious brown eyes, he surveyed his surroundings, smiling to himself. It had been three months since he had woken up confused, and with no memory of his life before that day. The pretty redhead that had been there in that barn had told him that she had found him outside, passed out from the heat. He had no idea what he had been doing in the desert, or why he was walking in it. She had told him that he had said his name was Alex Harris, and even though all his ID was gone, he decided to take her at her word. He couldn't say why, but he felt that he could trust her. She had offered him the use of the truck sitting outside, to get him as far as the bus station, and had even given him some money. He had thanked her, not really wanting to leave the sad looking woman alone, but she had said that she was waiting for somebody. Then, she had done something really strange. She hugged him. Him, a total stranger, and told him to take care of himself, her green eyes shiny and wet. He had nodded, surprised, and touched.

Then he had turned from her, and left, taking the old junker into town, following the instructions she had given him, and leaving it in the bus station parking lot. He had then purchased a ticket, traveling everywhere, and taking odd jobs to fund his explorations, desperate to try to figure out who he was. Then, about a week ago, he just woke up and decided it didn't matter. He somehow felt that he had a new lease on life, and really didn't want to know who he was before. Something told him he wouldn't really like himself.

So, that's when he decided to head to New York. Get lost in the Big City and recreate himself. With the help of a man he met traveling, he secured a new ID, and even a social security number, then took the next bus headed east. Now, here he was, and he felt a strange sense of peace and freedom overcoming him. With a smile, he picked up his bag, and started down the street, quickly getting swallowed by the throngs of people going about their daily business.

_Sunnydale, Ca_

"Coming!" Joyce called, wiping her hands on a dish towel to dry them. It had been a week since Willow had called her, telling her she was coming home with some exciting news, so Joyce prepared herself to be faced with the redhead, and the man that had so enraptured her attention. Giles was at the library, helping Faith train, so she would have to play hostess by herself until he got home.

"Goodness Will. . ." The name died on her lips when she looked into the hazel eyes of her daughter. "Buffy," she gasped, afraid that her eyes were playing tricks on her. Anne stood nervously on the stoop, fingers twisting the simple gold band on her finger.

"Hi, Mom," she said, her voice quiet as she looked up at her mother. They stood, staring numbly at each other, for what seemed like an eternity. Then, it seemed like time just melted away, and Joyce was holding her daughter in her arms, tears of joy streaming down their faces.

"Daddy?" Matt asked, twisting in his spot in the front seat to look at Spike, who was casually smoking a cigarette while he watched the reunion at the door.

"Yeah, bit?"

"Why do ladies cry if they're happy?" Spike snorted at the question, wondering how he was to explain one of the mysteries of life.

"Dunno, really. Guess they're just made that way," was all he could come up with. "Let's go meet your grandmum," he said, when Anne turned to wave at them. Matt scrambled out of the car after his father, taking his hand as they walked up to the women waiting at the door. Joyce looked down at them, her hands clasped in front of her chest, eyes drinking in the little boy in front of her.

"Say hello, poppet," Spike whispered. Matt looked up at the woman and smiled.

"Hello, gramma," he said brightly, letting go of his father to move closer to the woman he had only seen in pictures. She kneeled down to his level, tears still streaming down her face.

"Hello, Matthew. I've been waiting a long time to meet you." She tentatively held open her arms, inviting the child into them. He tilted his head up to look at his parents, Spike having moved up to take position behind Anne. They both nodded, large smiles on both of their faces. Turning back to Joyce, he smiled again, and stepped into her waiting arms. She had to force herself not to scoop him up and smother him with all the years of saved up grandmotherly love. Closing her eyes, she relished the feel of her grandson for the first time.

Anne watched the scene before her, reaching up to link her fingers with Spike's. He had been right, she decided, to push her to bring him here. She really couldn't say what had kept her away so long.

"Tell me something," Joyce said, reluctantly letting Matt go. "Do you like hot chocolate?" Matt eagerly shook his head. "Well, I just happen to have some in the kitchen, and I think it has your name on it," She finished, standing and holding her hand out. He took it, and followed her into the house.

"You got any of those little marshmallows?" Spike asked as he closed the door behind them.

~*THE END*~


End file.
